


Azure Moon: Cerulean Tears

by skywolf666



Series: Raine and Warin (Byleth And Older Sibling AU) [14]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ancient History, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Apologies, Arguing, Assassination, Battle, Blood and Injury, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brotherly Love, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Character Growth, Childhood Friends, Cliffhangers, Coma, Confessions, Confrontations, Conspiracy, Death, Distrust, Dreams, Dungeon, Emotional Sex, Empathy, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family, Family History, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Genocide, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Humanity, Idealism, Identity Issues, Identity Reveal, Ideology, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Introspection, Jealousy, Late Night Conversations, Leadership, Love, Major Character Injury, Memory Loss, Mercenaries, Multi, Near Death Experiences, Orphans, Other, Panic Attacks, Parley, Personal Growth, Plans For The Future, Post-Time Skip, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pragmatic Idealism, Pre-War, Promised Day, Promises, Protectiveness, Rating May Change, Reconciliation, Recovery, Relationship(s), Responsibility, Revenge, Rings, Romance, Royalty, Sacrifice, Scars, Secret Identity, Secrets, Self-Sacrifice, Shameless Smut, Siblings, Slow Burn, Smut, Snow, Story Arc, Strategy & Tactics, Survival, Survivor Guilt, Truth, War, long chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:49:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 32
Words: 342,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21594094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywolf666/pseuds/skywolf666
Summary: One had lost five years, and the other had spent them chasing, hunting, and wondering if this was the life they were destined to spend without their sibling. The day of the promise had finally come, and with it came the beginnings of the rebellion against the Empire and its allied forces. The Kingdom's prince was alive, but far from well. It would take all of them to bring Faerghus's future king back from the brink before they could even begin to fathom a world without war. (BL, AM, B!Sibling AU)
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Dedue Molinaro, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Petra Macneary, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Mercedes von Martritz, Ferdinand von Aegir/Dorothea Arnault, Hilda Valentine Goneril/Ignatz Victor, Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Leonie Pinelli/Claude von Riegan, Linhardt von Hevring/Lysithea von Ordelia, Marianne von Edmund/Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, My Unit | Byleth/Shamir Nevrand
Series: Raine and Warin (Byleth And Older Sibling AU) [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1488524
Comments: 60
Kudos: 191





	1. The Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> Genres/Rating: Friendship, Action/Adventure, History. (T)
> 
> Characters: Warin, Gilbert, Ashe, Petra.
> 
> Summary: They were tied together for two reasons, one to find his missing liege, and the other to fulfil a promise, five long years in the making. Though their motives differed, their paths lay side by side, and for the moment, that was enough of a reason for the trio to travel together. It would be a surprise, then, when they realized that they were not only hunting, but also were acting the role of prey for another that they had all believed was long gone from their world.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Rating: Friendship, Action/Adventure, History. (T)
> 
> Characters: Warin, Gilbert, Ashe, Petra.
> 
> Summary: They were tied together for two reasons, one to find his missing liege, and the other to fulfil a promise, five long years in the making. Though their motives differed, their paths lay side by side, and for the moment, that was enough of a reason for the trio to travel together. It would be a surprise, then, when they realized that they were not only hunting, but also were acting the role of prey for another that they had all believed was long gone from their world.

**Ethereal Moon**

**Garreg Mach Territory Outskirts**

**Dusk**

"So, he truly is circling back for the monastery after all... It seems that you were correct with your assumptions, young Ashe. I must congratulate you." Gilbert sighed tiredly as he leaned on his lance and took pause for a moment to catch his breath, glancing forward at the ruins of the monastery that were only now peeking out above the forest that he and the other two former students with him had been travelling through on foot for the past several days. Their movements had been heavily restricted due to the fear of being spotted by the Imperial troops that were still watching over the monastery, but their intelligence, however sparse, had already told them that the troops were a mere token force. The Emperor had more important things for her men to be focussing on rather than the wreckage of the abandoned monastery, but both he and Ashe had wondered if this would change considering the upcoming date, and all that it entailed. It wasn't as if the promise had been a secret, there had been no need for such things then, but did it matter to her, or would her mind be preoccupied with the war? It was gamble they all were taking, but one that had been agreed upon almost unanimously when the old knight had stumbled upon the two Blue Lions only a moon earlier in their travels during his search.

"I don't deserve any praise, Sir Gilbert. When I considered the date, it all made sense." Ashe refused the praise with a shake of his head, and though he stopped as Gilbert had, his bright, green eyes continued to scan his surroundings unceasingly. It had been long years since he had stepped foot in the forest surrounding the monastery, and while it didn't seem to have changed much since his days as a student... He still found himself on edge despite being in such familiar territory. How many times had he and his former comrades ran training drills in this very forest until their arms and legs ached with exhaustion and exertion? So many. It made his chest ache and his hand tighten on the handle of his bow without thinking as he mumbled to himself, "He may not realize it, but... Perhaps he is also remembering the promise, and that's why he's being drawn here."

A gentle hand placed itself on his shoulder and squeezed, and Ashe fought a smile at the comforting touch as he glanced over to see Petra watching him with concern painted clearly across her face. Her reddish brown eyes were watching his face worriedly, and he had to admit he was more grateful than ever that she had been the first old teammate he had ran into when he had abandoned Kingdom territory in order to return to Garreg Mach. He had found her just as he had been, travelling alone and trekking across the wild for the monastery, and while their reunion had been short, he had to admit he couldn't have been happier to see her, even if he had been momentarily caught off guard by how much five years had changed her.

But couldn't the same be said for him? The five years of endless war had to have changed all of them. He was sure of it. He had grown taller and stronger, his hand steadier with a bow and a lance, and even his riding skills had improved vastly since his days as a student. He was well on his way to knighthood, even if the Kingdom was in no state for such things, and it made him both proud and profoundly sad. All of the teaching he had received, all of the training and the encouragement and the kindness had not been wasted, and though their professor was gone, he had still taken everything she had given to him to heart. It was why he had chosen to return, leaving his post in the north when that day had started to come too close to ignore any longer, and he knew Petra was not the only one who would be following in his footsteps.

Finding Petra had reassured him of that. When she had been questioned on why she was so far from Brigid, why she was alone in enemy territory, her answer had been refreshingly simple. She had made a promise, just as he had, and she was following her duty by returning, just as he was, to where it had all really begun for them. They did not know, nor did they really care, if they would be the only ones to return... but the sight of one another had lifted their spirits. Perhaps they all would come, their former classmates and friends, but what would happen afterwards was still a mystery. It was not as if they were not already fighting. They all had been, ever since the war had begun and Garreg Mach had fallen to the Empire. The Kingdom was broken, crippled by the coup, but it was not yet defeated. Not yet.

The smile came easily enough as he took Petra's hand in his own and squeezed, and her skin felt warm underneath his callused fingers as she offered a smaller, much more gentler smile at his contact. It made his face redden, reminding him that for the past moon she had been his constant, and only, companion in their travels, and he was quick to remember himself before he was scolded for touching the future queen of Brigid so casually. It was not good for a future knight to forget his place no matter how close they were, and worse, he could feel Gilbert watching them rather searchingly as he scrambled to maintain his composure as he reassured his friend, "It's okay, Petra. I think we'll be fine. And I think we'll find him, and the others, too."

"I am having the same belief. I just do not want you to be worrying, Ashe. We have come far together already. There is only of little more to go." Petra's reply was easy, and as gentle as her smile as he dropped his hand and turned away from her with his ears burning through his silver-grey hair. It amused her, how easily embarrassed he seemed to be over the smallest things, but she knew now was not the time to be teasing him. In any other circumstances she may have, but Gilbert's appearance into their lives had changed their light-hearted routine vastly. He was on the hunt, unlike their promise, and the news he had brought had shaken the two soldiers to their core. He still did not quite believe his own words, which only left Petra and Ashe wondering, but if he had come so far alone... There had to be some truth to what he had seen, and what he believed.

"I think it is time we continue. We can travel faster underneath the darkness... and it is still two more days before the date of the Millennium Festival." Gilbert spoke up as he watched the two friends interacting with a hint of a smile playing across his creased face. It was pleasant to see, even in the stress of wartime, how the youth managed to shoulder both the burden of being a soldier while still embracing their love for life. He had grown far too old for such things, but he could admit freely that he was glad they were not falling into a veteran's old ways, even if they were battle-hardened themselves already. Perhaps it was their age, or their hope that made them that way, but he knew better than to wish it gone. It had carried them this far over the past five years, and he hoped it would carry them all the farther as he mused, "Should we continue at our current pace, we shall arrive there by nightfall of tomorrow... With time to spare for your friends to arrive with you, should they also be coming."

"They will be, Gilbert. I don't doubt it. All of them will come." Ashe reassured the much older knight, and he felt nothing but optimism and certainty at the thought of all of his friends. They would be there at the promised time, on the promised day. He knew they would be, even if it meant abandoning their posts that they currently were holding during the fighting with the Imperial forces up north. They all had their duties, their lives, but they had also been tied tightly together by what had happened to them five years ago. If he had come this far.. If Petra had come this far... He did not doubt the others would likewise be following closely behind. They were Blue Lions no longer, not with the monastery gone... but they still all remained their professor's students. It bound them more tightly together than anything else could have, and his expression was serious and grave as he met Gilbert's stare and told him firmly, "We made a promise. Everyone will be there."

"It's good to see your optimism, lad. Then we shall-"

In a whirlwind, everything changed as Gilbert spoke, and it happened almost too fast for the eye to see. Out of the foliage came a sharpened gauntlet, and the nicked, but still keenly hewn blade slid almost effortlessly underneath Gilbert's armour to press against his throat. As Ashe's bow raised at the sight of the threat, a lance came flying from the same place as the gauntlet, knocking it uselessly aside and leaving him scrambling before he realized that their older comrade was being held at the point of blade and could not move to defend himself, or either of them. Only Petra remained with a weapon in hand, and she growled a curse under her breath as she changed stance almost instantly to face this unknown threat. But Gilbert's situation held her still just as it did Ashe, making her eyes flare with both anger and frustration, and she snarled into the woods at their unseen enemy, "Coward! Show yourself rather than hide like a snake and fight as a man!"

The challenge went unmet for a moment, and then their foe stepped out of the trees, his gauntlet still raised level with Gilbert's throat as he forced the knight to move backwards against the threat of having his throat sliced open by his bladed weapon. Cool, calm navy eyes held Gilbert's surprised stare as the gauntlet finally lowered, and the two former students looked to one another uncertainly as they were entirely ignored as the man responsible knelt down for his lance and picked it up in one smooth movement. He spoke idly, almost conversationally, as he rolled his head from side to side and retracted the blades on his gauntlets with a press of a button, "You're getting slower, Gilbert. If the kids hadn't been here, your head would have been on the ground already. Not a good look for a former Knight of Seiros."

"Warin... You're alive?" Gilbert wasn't quite sure what else to say as he took in the young man who had went missing shortly after his little sister had disappeared, but his eyes were not failing him, and he was sure Jeralt's eldest son was indeed the one standing in front of him now. He looked worn, ragged, but there was little doubt it was him. His clothes were dirty and his armour was dented and nicked in several places, and there were dark stains on his leather cloak that the experienced knight of the Kingdom knew for a fact were blood rather than evidence of travel. He had acquired a colder, harder edge to his face, as well as a prominent scar slicing down the side of his throat and disappearing underneath his collar, but it was him all the same. Those gauntlets were one-of-a-kind, specially forged by and for the man in front of him, and Gilbert had fought beside him long enough to know that nothing but death would have separated the former mercenary from his beloved weapons. "Where have you been? The Knights searched for you, after the fall of Garreg Mach... but they could not find you. We assumed you were dead."

"They weren't the only ones looking for me. I was running. Have been for the past five years." Warin's answer came curtly as he checked his gauntlets to ensure every blade had retracted properly before he hooked his lance back over his shoulder and into his belt so it would not be of bother to him. His weapons hadn't seen proper care for ages, and he was due to have them looked over or completely scrapped, but it was of little mind to him as glanced from Gilbert astonished glance and to the eyes of his sister's former students. Ashe was looking at him as if he had seen a ghost, but Petra had yet to drop her axe and was looking him over with suspicion and anger painted across her face. It almost made him smile. It made sense she would be more vigilant than the other two, considering he had just proved that he could have had all three of them dead and in the ground with complete ease, but he ignored her as he looked back to Gilbert and continued idly, "Little Miss Empress apparently considered me such a threat to her goals that I've been named one of the few men to be killed on sight by any and all of the Imperial Army should I be found. I've seen the orders on the strike teams I've slaughtered. She offered quite a bounty. I suppose I should be honoured."

Ashe looked from Gilbert and back to Warin in astonishment, but he knew almost immediately that there was no lie on the older man's face. He looked like a hunted animal, even if his eyes were as hard as stone, and his expression colder than the ice of the north. He looked as if he had been fighting for five whole years without a moment of peace, and from the state of his armour and his weaponry, Ashe wondered if he had truly been alone, alone and fighting, for all of that time. His professor's brother had always been a cold and distant man, but now there was an edge to him, a sharpness that could only come with harsh, unending trials, and Ashe had seen that look many times in his youth as a thief. This was a man who had been fighting for his life for far too long, and knew no other way of how to do so but through violence. It made him sad, both for him and for his sister, and his voice was quiet, muted with sympathy as he asked weakly, "You've truly... been on the run for five years? Fighting, for five whole years? All by yourself, Sir Warin?"

"Give or take a few moons. The Empress apparently doesn't take criticism very well. I think I made her and her little mage friend angry when last we spoke in Garreg Mach." Warin answered with a careless shrug, but the fire in eyes proved that even if he was speaking casually of what had happened to him since he had last been seen by any of them that it had not been an easy venture for him to have gone through. He was world-weary, moreso than he had been when he had arrived in the monastery, and the past five years had not been easy to him. He had had no allies, and had only known the hunt. Being chased down no matter where he went, endangering anyone and everyone he saw should he dare to take a step into a village that had even one Imperial soldier there to see him, and being forced to kill every squadron of soldiers who had been unlucky enough to find him and challenge him, even after numerous attempts to let them go to spare their families the pain of the coming slaughter. But it was much easier to shrug it away, to speak idly and lightly, than it was to ruminate too deeply on it... He had earned it, after all. He was well aware that he had.

_"Ah, I see... So, you've come straight to me, then. That spares me time." Hubert's eyes were alight with bloodlust, and dark flames crackled in his right hand as he stood fearlessly at the foot of the staircase to block Warin's path forward. His expression was a sadistic and cruel smile, clearly pleased with the way the battle had been going, especially if one of his main targets had come right to him and vastly expedited the process of destroying him. He had his orders, and was perfectly happy, glad, almost, to be able to carry them out. And it showed as his fingers crackled with the magical sparks that danced about his skin as he mused, "I would almost call it a gift; you seeking me out like this."_

_Warin didn't bother him with a reply right away, and instead merely clenched and unclenched his hands as he looked over his surroundings. He had the height advantage, but Hubert was flanked by two other mages in Imperial armour, and farther behind were more soldiers that he would need to tear his way through once he was finished with him. It didn't concern him however, especially as he shrugged his shoulders back and errantly wiped away a streak of blood that his last enemy foolish enough to block his path had left him as a parting gift. He was not at all surprised by Hubert's announcement, nor the near happiness he was showing at their coming clash, but he couldn't quite help himself as he questioned lazily, "Let me guess... Your master wants me dead?"_

_"Indeed she does. You are a threat to her goals... And therefore must be eliminated." Hubert found no reason to not entertain his prey, at least for the moment. He was a strong soldier, and would have been the perfect ally, but Edelgard had already come to the conclusion that he was a lost cause, and worse, a very real threat to her dream. It was only natural that she would wish him removed, and Hubert's only regret was that he had not acted first to remove him from the equation far before this stage of their plan had been enacted. Still, he couldn't say that meeting him in open combat would be terrible, as it was at least a chance to rectify his mistake as he told him flatly, "I will kill you myself for her, as I should have done before."_

_Warin's lips twitched into a smile as he watched the mages behind Hubert readying themselves at their master's orders... Of course Hubert would not come at him in a one-on-one battle. He was too clever for that, and too wary. Warin however did not mind. He had faced worse disadvantages before, and he was quite used to fighting magic-blessed opponents. It had almost become a talent of his, fighting against larger numbers, and against the magically inclined who suffered greatly in hand -to-hand combat. They needed distance and room, and he was currently in the exact position a mage could take great advantage of by being boxed into the stairwell. Still, he felt no concern. They didn't know him half as well as they thought if they believed he was already beaten, and he told them so with a cold little chuckle, "It won't be that easy."_

_"Now!"_

_Warin leapt the moment Hubert gave the order, and the blades on his gauntlets sprang free as he went flying over the mages' heads to have their back as the spot where he had been standing moments before was lit up in flames. The blades whistled as he swung his arms, and in an instant he had two mages on the ground, bleeding profusely as their backs split open underneath his sudden assault. Hubert was faster, turning and leaping away from him, but Warin had already anticipated that he would not fall nearly as easily as his own lackeys. He was stronger and smarter, but he was also proud... and Warin used that to his advantage as he shook the blood from his gauntlets and stepped forward, forcing Hubert to back up into the stairwell, "You know what_ will _be easy, though? Putting a lance through your skull. Yours, and your mistress's. I don't fear you. You, or any of the people you're scraping before for power. But I will kill you. The lot of you. And I'll enjoy every minute of it."_

_"Impertinent...!" Hubert's teeth ground together as he sent out a fireball, only to watch as Warin took it head-on, crossing his gauntlets in front of his face to take the blow and guard himself from the majority of the blast. It barely made him flinch, and Hubert felt an icy chill go down as his spine as he wondered just how deeply he, too, had misjudged the elder child of the Blade Breaker. He had known him to be arrogant but powerful, but this was something beyond that. No, as Warin dropped his gauntlets, watching him with coldly amused eyes... Hubert knew better. Arrogance came from ignorance. This was not arrogance. It was confidence. He was the better fighter... and he knew it._

_Still. The insult could not go unmet. Hubert would not permit it. Confident or not, better fighter or not, he was still completely ignorant to the truth of the world. His lady had told him as such. He knew nothing, and was not inspired to learn more, or willing to change it. He was a coward and a nihilist. An insult to all that his lady stood for. He needed to die. Hubert could not allow for his existence. His majesty's orders were absolute. He raised his hand again, eyes narrowing as again those dark flames began to wreath his wrist and fingers. He was not like the soldiers he had brought with him. He was stronger, faster... He would not go down so easily now that he was aware of the extent of the threat Warin truly was._

_"Too slow."_

_Hubert fell back with a snarl of pain, his cheek laid open almost to the bone from Warin's bladed gauntlets before he could even blink to realize the older man had covered the distance between them in a single bound before slicing down. It was a superficial wound despite the pain, Hubert had taken too many blows to overestimate his own injuries, but he still cursed quietly as the blood flowed freely down his face to stain his collar as proof of his misstep. He pressed against the wound with his free hand, eyes flashing with anger even as he understood with a painful clench to his gut that he was not going to be able to win._

_Warin's eyes were alight with that cold, cruel mirth that made Hubert's spine stiffen and his skin crawl as he watched the dawning comprehension in his enemy's eyes. It was what he had been looking for. For that composed and arrogant facade to come crumpling down as he realized how useless he truly was against an actual soldier. He stepped forward as Hubert backed away from him, still hissing with pain and defiance that the older man ignored entirely as he took his turn to muse, "You're not used to fighting in true combat, are you? No, your methods are underhanded and shadowed, like some sort of stage-hand assassin. You don't know what it is to fight in real combat. To have your life constantly on the line, and one wrong move is all it takes to cost you everything. No, you're too used to slinking about in the shadows and taking your opponents in the dark, before they can fight back and beat you down. You're pathetic. You learned nothing here. You'll never beat me."_

_"Even if you should win here...! It matters not! I will chase you to the ends of the world until you are cold and buried! You will never know a moment's peace! I will never stop hunting you! You... You and all those like you... shall not be permitted to live in our new world."_

"Why are you coming out of hiding now, then?" Gilbert's voice brought him back to the present, away from that moment he knew his fate had been sealed for catching the mage's ire so personally, and Warin looked back up at him with a carefully calculated stare. Of course the veteran knight would question his motives, especially after he had all but turned himself into a ghost for the past five years. His sudden reappearance was fair to question, even though Warin was aware the answer had to be obvious to others, even if it wasn't to his former fellow knight. But, he supposed, that wasn't really Gilbert's fault. It wasn't as if he had tried to ingratiate himself with the man when he had joined the Knights. He hadn't tried to be friendly with anyone. They only knew one another as soldiers, and barely as men.

Warin nodded towards the two young soldiers behind him who had now completely relaxed, even if Brigid's princess was still looking over him with sharp suspicion bright in her eyes. She didn't like the fact that she had been caught off guard so easily, especially with Ashe in tow, but he didn't mind her ire. It was only further proof of the fact that she was putting Ashe's safety above her own, just as she had been taught to do by his sister. Though he had seen her kinder glances from afar when he had been watching the trio earlier, and he was well aware it was nowhere near as innocent as friendship. It never was, even if Ashe was not yet ready to know or even think of such a thing yet. He answered the question with an idle shrug as he leaned back comfortably on the nearest tree, secure in the knowledge that the area was empty, and his sister's former students could handle anything if they chose to fight with him, "I'm here for the same reason as the kids are. I knew Raine made a promise with them. I'm here to see how many of her students hold to it. Two is better than none, though I am hoping for more numbers."

"More numbers... What are you planning, Warin?" Gilbert was unsure of what to think of the younger man's words, and it caught him quite off guard to hear him speaking of arriving students as if they would of use to him in some way. Despite how gently he spoke his sister's name, there was still a cold hardness in his eyes, like he was constantly calculating and processing information, changing a plan that he was carrying in his head as new factors continued to pop up. It was a look he had seen on seasoned tacticians many a time, but Warin was not a tactician. He was lieutenant and a mercenary, a fighter, and the words of "numbers" concerned him deeply as he wondered what plan the assumed-to-be-dead man in front of him had been conjuring up during the last five years.

"I could ask you the same thing, Gilbert. How do you think I found you so easily? It wasn't you I was tracking back to the monastery." Warin's answer came brusquely, and his eyes took on a colder edge as he looked Gilbert over speculatively. He was not naive. He hadn't found Gilbert and his sister's students by chance. They weren't the object of his search, though it was good fortune he had found them all the same... He knew who and what Gilbert's loyalty truly was to, and it was not the two young soldiers who had chosen to follow him thus far to the monastery. He had been watching over that subject himself for the past moon, close enough to watch, but far enough to avoid detection... He had no desire whatsoever to actually interact with the man in question. It would end poorly, for the both of them, if he had to.

"Then, you've seen His Highness?"

"His Highness...? Is that what you're going to call him?" Warin had to scoff despite himself, and he felt his disgust making itself known on his face without his consent. Calling that beast "high highness" seemed to be the height of hypocrisy. That wasn't a noble man. It wasn't even human. Not after what Warin had seen him do. It hadn't been hard to track him, he had done the same to rabid wolves and bears during his time as a mercenary, and this was no different. Perhaps that was what made it easier for him to pull away from the horror, to think so calmly about it, but he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not as he spoke pointedly to the tangerine-haired man before him, "He's not a man anymore, Gilbert. He's an animal. I've seen the same things you have. I've even watched him do it. He might be alive, but any hopes you're having of bringing him home to Faerghus, you may as well drop right now. He isn't interested in becoming the focal point of uniting the Kingdom. All he wants is the Emperor's head on the end of his lance."

Gilbert hesitated for a reply as he saw the truth in Warin's eyes, but he knew there really was no choice in the matter for him. Hadn't he made the decision long ago, when he had first begun to suspect the truth behind Cornelia's lies? Even when he had come upon the horror himself... It was beyond him as a single man. It was for the good of the Kingdom entire, now, and it fell to him to find the truth, even if it was not one he wished to meet head-on. It did not matter if Warin was right. All that mattered was finding the rallying cry that the Kingdom needed to soldier onwards with, and he remarked quietly with a shake of his head, "It is fortunate then, that those two things will coincide..."

"You're a selfish arse, as well as a blind one. It's good to know that things don't change. Allow me to make things very clear to you, Gilbert... I couldn't care less about the Kingdom, or its delusional prince. I'm not here for either of those things. I've come to see who will stand against the Empire." Warin's voice dripped venom, and he shook his head as he mused that it really did not matter where the nobility came from. Their thoughts were all the same, and it was growing both tiresome, and extremely irritating to be exposed to it again and again in such times. It didn't matter... but he had long decided it was not his battle to fight any longer. He'd done enough. He could do no more. Not for _them_. "True, perhaps those things do coincide with one another, but it's best you remember where my priorities lie. If Fódlan's burning is unstoppable, I don't intend to risk my neck to try and smother the flames. It can burn to ashes, and the Emperor can rule for as long as she likes. She'll get a dagger in the back one way or another, in the end. It isn't my duty to save the world. I'm just a plain old mercenary."

Gilbert's eyes narrowed, and he was reminded of exactly why the Knights of Seiros had taken so coldly to the man in front of him at the end of the all the fighting. He had no loyalty to king or country, nor to Lady Rhea, and he had not been afraid to make that clear. When his father had died, he had lost his leash, and it have made every knight wary of him and his motives for remaining behind. Even if it was for his sister's protection, that did not endear him to his fellows. He was dangerous, to his enemies and to them, and no one trusted him and for good reason. Gilbert felt that same mistrust, especially now that Warin was voicing his thoughts so openly, so cruelly, yet his words were at odds with his actions, and he pointed that out with a cold glance of his own, "Yet you're hoping to find those willing to rebel?"

Warin turned away from him, as if he had had enough of chatting with the older knight who was clearly stuck in his ways. His eyes fell on Ashe, and the younger man snapped to attention despite having not yet been called upon. He couldn't quite help it, Warin's dark, navy eyes were commanding, and worse, they reminded him far too much of his professor. It felt instinctual to straighten his spine and stand at attention, waiting for orders even though he had no reason to believe they'd come or that he'd have to follow them. And Warin did not give him any, but instead merely gave him a question, though the weight behind his words were enough of a blow all the same when it came, "Let me ask you something, kid. Are you here for your king, or are you here for yourself?"

Ashe bit his tongue before he could answer, and he felt himself tear in two as he struggled to find the truth of what he wanted to say under that familiar, painful gaze of his professor's elder brother. He owed him the truth, though he admitted he wasn't entirely sure what the truth was. He had abandoned the Kingdom and its war to come to the monastery... That alone had to be answer enough. Yet it felt more complicated than that, and he winced as he thought of his friend, who he had mourned when he had heard he was dead, even when the circumstances were incredibly suspect. His words came slowly, hesitantly as he shook his head and stared at his boots, "I... I'm here... because I made a promise. A promise to someone very dear to me. Professor... She saved my life. More times than I can count. When I lost everything, and could have very well lost myself, as well... She was there to help me. I... I am not here for the Kingdom. I am here for her. For her and my friends."

Warin nodded, both pleased and grateful for the answer despite the way Ashe's shoulders slumped when he finished speaking. It was clear he was still torn, he wished to be a knight above everything and anything else, but his personal loyalties had come before his knightly duties, and knowing that was indeed a burden he had to carry. Warin however did not have time for his concerns, as his own were far more pressing, and he turned to Petra, who was still regarding him with a fair measure of suspicion and dislike in her adust eyes when his gaze fell on her. She, too, stiffened, and her hand tightened on her axe, but he ignored both as he questioned her simply, "And you, princess?"

"Brigid wishes to stand alone, and with pride... It cannot be doing so in the shadow of the Empire. And it cannot endure forever." Petra's reply came slower, and the weight of her duties to her country lay heavily on her shoulders. It hadn't just been loyalty that had kept her firmly rooted beside her professor when the Imperial Army had invaded Garreg Mach, there had been a fair amount of pragmatism at play, too, but that had been five years ago. Brigid still remained in a precarious position, just as her professor had predicted it would, but she did not regret her choice. It was a step on the path to being equals, to no longer being under the yoke of the Empire, and that was far more important than anything else. Yet... Ashe's words brought a small, painful smile to her face, and she shook her head, too, as she admitted wistfully, "But more than that... I am of like Ashe. Professor was kind, and strong... I wish to be like her. To follow of her footprints. To fight... for what I wish to be fighting for. Without having regrets."

"If the rest of your class proves to be of the same mind, then perhaps we can get somewhere. If not... I'll take what I can get. Alone, I can't do very much other than perhaps a suicide attempt at making for an assassination. With real numbers, a true, concentrated rebellion isn't impossible." Warin remarked with a roll of his shoulders, but he was pleased nonetheless by the answers he had gotten. Even five years later his sister's grasp on her students remained strong, and he was proud of her, and of the young man and woman in front of him who had admitted how deeply her influence had changed them. One year of teaching had been carved deep in their being... and he did not see that changing with the rest of the students she had taken under her wing. It was a good sign. A promising sign. And it gave him hope for the first time in five years since the hunt had begun, and he had found himself to be the prey for the first time in his life.

Gilbert however was unsure of what to think as he heard Petra and Ashe voice their true thoughts aloud for Warin to hear without very much hesitation or remorse. He had known why they were on their journeys, and why they had chosen to follow him as far as the monastery, but it still made him pause all the same. He had not known their professor long, though he did admit she was a rather singular creature, from the short time he had fought alongside her. She inspired hope and confidence, and was as stubborn as a mule, yet also as fearless as a lion. She made an impact on anyone she had met, and it was clear her brother was aware of that, and wished to take advantage, which made him wonder as he asked him openly so to hear the exact truth from his mouth, "You hope for a rebellion?"

"Don't you? Why else would you be tracking _him_ , knowing what he's become and what he wants to do?" Warin's reply was biting, but it was also completely truthful and Gilbert could not deny it. He would not, as it would only make him a hypocrite, and Warin was more than aware of that as he explained with a bitter smirk and another scoff, "You want to use him as a figurehead, and if so, you're more than welcome to try. It won't be inspiring, and it'll likely scare off more men than you'll hope to have... but at least you have a legitimate claim to taking back the Kingdom, even if it's built on false hope. He won't rule. He _can'_ t rule. Trust me on that. Even if the whole of Faerghus was to rally behind him, he'd throw them mindlessly at the Empire until they all fell, and he along with them. If that's the man you're going to place your faith in... You're going to end up dead."

"Then who do we look to, if not the king?"

Warin shook his head, wondering what it would take to get through to the older man before him, and realizing that any attempt he made would never dent his will, or his feelings of loyalty. It almost disgusted him, how blind he was to everything but his liege, but there was little he could do about it. His own plans were far more important, but he couldn't leave Gilbert without an answer, even if it was so painfully obvious to him. He spoke sharply, no longer having the patience for his nonsense as he answered without preamble, "To yourselves. To your own will. You're a knight, not a slave. You don't need a king in order to hold yourselves together as one and come together for a greater purpose. You may need a leader for that, but anyone can become a leader if they're willing to take the burden. Find like-minded men. Arm yourselves. Steel your will. And march."

Ashe wondered at him as he listened intently to the exchange and heard the disgust dripping from Warin's voice, and a quick glance over at Petra proved that his words were ringing true with her as well. They were cold words, cruel words, but truthful all the same. He didn't need or want something to rally about when his goal was clear, and Ashe marvelled at his will. He hadn't thought beyond the day of the promise, but someone clearly had, and it gave him both hope and fear as he understood perhaps it was his way of stepping in for his sister. For doing what she would have done, had she been the one to survive and he had been the one to be lost. He had to ask though, had to hear the words, and his voice was quiet but earnest when he questioned, "Is that what you plan to do, Sir Warin? To find men like us... and fight?"

"It is. I haven't _just_ been running around to avoid capture or battle for five years. I've searched for allies, too." Warin told him with a nod, and he reflected on all he had seen in his five years of travel and hunting, and what he now knew for certain. Claude had dismissed him outright when he had extended a hand, too busy with his plots and schemes and his own self-interest to listen, and so he had written off the Alliance leader without delay. But Claude was not the Alliance, and a cursory look about the fractured territory had told him all he had needed to know. The Empire was also in shambles, but Edelgard was hiding it much better under the threat of force, but there were dissidents, even if they were hiding so deep in the shadows that it seemed they were not there at all. The Kingdom had proven to be the most ferocious in their attempts to fight back the Empire's influence, and he had known without needing to search he would find allies there, if his sister's students had the mettle he believed they had.

Warin took a breath, cracking his knuckles as he glanced about at the three before him, and he was well aware his thoughts were far and away from the reality of where he stood. Still, they wanted to know what he was thinking, what he was planning, and he would not keep them in the dark. He spoke slowly but truthfully, bluntly but honestly as he explained, "If, and only if, we are able to rally a sizeable enough force to become a true threat... There are allies out there that we can pull into the fold against the Empire, and form a true rebellion that might even become enough to unseat the princess. The Alliance is fractured, and Claude is a coward who will wash his hands of this mess the first chance he has, but the soldiers there are formidable, and proud. He may run, but they won't. It's possible we may find aid from them, should we ask for it and provide in return. And there's unrest within the Empire, too. Not everyone is quite so happy to be underneath the princess' boot. The only problem is unification... and with everyone having spent the last five years fighting only for themselves and their homelands, it's no wonder the Empire has managed to spread its reach so far. It's about time to beat her back, if the will can be mustered to do so."

"You say you do not care of what becomes of Fódlan... But your actions do not have matching with your words." Petra spoke up for the first time since she had been addressed directly, and her eyes were shrewd and calculating as she looked Warin over sharply. She saw the dichotomy in his words and actions as easily as anyone else, but she was also unafraid of being the one to call him out directly on it. He was much like his sister, saying one thing and yet doing another, but at least her professor's words and actions had come from disbelief in herself, and not a general sense of apathy and distrust in humanity. She watched Warin closely, head tilting slightly to the side as she asked him pointedly, "You would find more friends, more people, to fight the Empire, even if you are not caring of the world about you? Why?"

"It's what my sister would have done, and what she would have wanted. I'm here to see that through, to the best of my ability. But, as I said... It's only if you play your part, as well." Warin answered honestly, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling at Petra's bravery. Both Gilbert and Ashe continued to hesitate to confront him directly, too intimidated by his nature and his words to speak to him as an equal, but Petra did not have such issues. He wasn't sure if it was her personality or her upbringing, but he respected it all the same and looked her in the eyes as he continued in reply, "I won't fight a one man war against the Empire. That'd be like throwing my life away. But should you and all of your comrades return... That's a spark of hope to cling to. And that's far more than I've seen in five years. Is that an acceptable answer?"

"Yes. I accept it. For the professor." Petra replied after a moment to digest his words, and she nodded in acceptance before looking over to Ashe to gauge his reaction. His eyes were brilliant and harsh, full of that same fighting-spirit she had so admired since they were students, and she was proud to see that Warin's words had stirred him enough to throw himself fully behind him. For their professor, they would do anything, and it was clear that her elder brother meant every word he had said. They did not need more to rally their spirits, or to throw their loyalty behind. Warin knew it as well as they did. He had counted on it. And it made her smile grimly as she answered again, now knowing that Ashe was fully behind her, "We _both_ accept."

"Warin... I must ask you something. For five years you've fought alone... Why?" Gilbert spoke up again, pulling everyone's attention back to him as he looked Warin up and down and took him in. He was scarred, inside and out, from his five years on the run... but Gilbert did not understand why he had took on such a monumental task on his own. It was true that teamwork did not come naturally to him, he was much more efficient as a solo soldier, but still, his actions defied logic. He had been alone for five entire years, allowing former comrades and people who could have helped him to believe him dead rather than risk reaching out to them, and had instead turned to strangers. It made little sense to the veteran knight, and he made it clear as he continued, "Not once did you contact the Knights of Seiros, or even your sister's students in Faerghus. What made you choose to shun the help you could have received had you reached out to us? Why did you choose to go it alone for all of this time?"

"Difference of priorities. The Knights are searching for Rhea... and I'm not interested in getting in their way, or being conscripted into the hunt. And as for my sister's students... They had their territories and families to look after. I knew about the promise. I could bide my time to see if it would hold out." Warin replied curtly, and his eyes had taken on a hard shine as he spoke of the activity the Knights had been up to in the last five years. He understood why they would be searching for the archbishop underneath Seteth's leadership, but he had no interest in joining their forays. He didn't care what happened to Rhea. She had been missing for as long as he had, and he had removed her from his chessboard long ago. She did not matter anymore to the picture he was now seeing, and hoping to combat. If she was dead, it would be a blow to the church, but not so much to his own goals. And should she live... Perhaps he could finally wrangle answers from her if he would be lucky enough to find her once the Empire came crashing down. "Clearly, my patience paid off. Five years is a trifle. I want to know what happens next, don't you?"

"Indeed..." Gilbert could agree to that much, though he admitted he still had many reservations about allying with the man before him despite knowing their goals were truly well aligned. He saw the truth in Warin's eyes, that he had seen the prince himself and knew exactly what he had become with his own eyes, but it did not change the older man's resolve. The Kingdom was in dire need... They had no one else to turn to with the Empire slowly but surely clawing their way deeper and deeper in. He turned his head towards the remains of Garreg Mach, wondering if they would find what they sought there, and he questioned as he straightened his clothes and armour, readying himself once more for the long march ahead, "Then, you will join us in returning to the monastery?"

"That is my intention. From there... We'll see." Warin replied, and he adjusted his worn gauntlets before likewise following Gilbert's gaze south. That huge, sprawling building in the distance called to him, called in a way he had not felt in almost five years, but he did not trust himself to believe in the pull that came from somewhere deep in his chest. It had been too long. He had been alone for too long. He let out a breath as he glanced to his unlikely friends of fortune, but it was better than anything else he had known for the past several years. He couldn't complain. He would not complain. There was only the way forward, and that small, faint flicker of hope that he had to cling to with both hands... He'd have gone mad without it, perhaps... and the thought steeled his spine and locked his jaw as he took a step forward once more, "Let's go... and lets see who'll be waiting there to meet us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> And so begins Azure Moon! Of course, I had to start a tad earlier than canon since I wanted to reflect on what Warin and a few others had been up to, and also make clear how the world's changed not just him but everyone before diving on in with Raine. As with my previous collections, this will serve a lot more like a companion novella rather than a retelling of Azure Moon (barring a few incidents that are subject to change and revision), but I hope that I do it well enough to make it enjoyable to read!
> 
> As I've said before, I am super excited to get into the real meat of Three Houses, as well as the more mature aspects of the War Phase. There's a lot to cover and a lot to write for, but I'm eager for it. Now, mind, I do want to address that since the third wave of the DLC has dropped, and since this began before the DLC dropped, I'm not really going to include anything that's been added in it here. The same can probably be said for the fourth wave of DLC that comes out in April (depending on how long this goes on for) as that involves changing way too many things on the fly, but we'll see what happens if I end up finishing this early enough to adjust to it. Anna will just be a normal merchant, Jeritza isn't even available on this route anyway (I'm still salty about that, poor Mercedes deserves better), but things shall continue as if the DLC really didn't come out. Though, maybe I'll write some sauna and cat and dog shenanigans... That's harmless enough, ne?
> 
> I am taking into consideration what you guys want to see for this collection, so please drop me a review and tell me what parts in particular (or characters) you'd like to see mentioned, touched upon, or focussed on as Azure Moon starts to play out. If there are couples you'd like to see, moments you want mentioned, events changed, or anything of the sort, don't be afraid to let me know! Even throwing out guesses of where I intend to go or what I might be changing is welcome! I cannot promise to do all of it, as I do have a general sense of where this story shall be headed, but I do like to know what my readers like to see!
> 
> Thank you very much for reading this far, and I hope you'll stick with me as AM starts to kick off and go crazy. I've been really excited to get to the M-rated stuff (and I'll be leaping right into it, don't you worry), but I do apologize if that ends up not being your cup of tea. Each chapter really will be earning it's own individual rating despite the overall rating being "Mature", but if there will be graphic content of either a violent or sexual nature, I will be sure to note it in the beginning with a warning, so nobody will be caught off guard. I'll likely be tweaking the little introductory notes with little summaries of what to expect for the coming chapters, and I'd like feedback on how that looks, or if it works in the future, too!
> 
> I'll see you guys all soon, and I hope you have a good one!
> 
> Mood: Sore.
> 
> Listening To: "Skyfall" - Adele
> 
> ~ Sky


	2. Lost Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Rating: Family, Hurt/Comfort, Angst. (T)
> 
> Characters: Raine, Warin.
> 
> Summary: She had lost five years entirely, and he had spent his on the run, suffering from violence, and regret and guilt... Much had changed since they had last seen one another, and much would continue to change from here on out. But one fact would always remain the same; they were family. And neither would ever turn their back on the other, now that they were together again.

**Guardian Moon**

**Garreg Mach (Outer Halls)**

**Noontime**

Five years.

The two words rang out constantly in her head as Raine forced herself to go through the motions of clearing out rubble, piling books and weapons into their appropriate places for transport later, and taking notes of damaged sections of the monastery that would need proper attention later by someone with the appropriate tools and skills. It felt good to put her body to use, but she was well aware that her spirit was not in it as she listlessly heard the words her students had all been saying repeating themselves over and over in her ears. Five whole years. She had simply been _gone_ for five entire years. She didn't doubt it. Their growth, their changes, the monastery's state... Everything made sense when she took their words at face value, and yet... She didn't want to believe it was true.

What was she meant to do with such information? The world was falling down all about her ears, and what had she been doing the entire time while her students, her friends and family, had been suffering and fighting? Sleeping? It made her sick to her stomach to imagine. Her brother didn't look the same. He was rougher about the edges now, something she hadn't believed to even be possible, and the scars he was hiding under his cloak and gauntlets... He had seen more battle than he was admitting to. Far more... His eyes were cold and distant, like a predator in waiting, and his manner was clipped and efficient. It was if all warmth had been drained from him, and she ached with sympathy for what he had been through, and what he was not telling her in order to spare her from the details.

Then there was Dimitri. Her stomach twisted with such pain that she had to reach out for the nearest object, a broken chair, to steady herself. The man was practically unrecognizable. His hair long and unkempt, his armour dented and pierced, and that wild, brutal look in his one eye... It had made her blood run cold when he had spoke of hunting the thieves out of their den, comparing them to rats crawling about the walls of Garreg Mach, and the glee he had shown in cutting them down, one by one without an ounce of mercy... No, he was not at all the man she had once known, and the guilt that tore at her innards was too much for her to stomach. If she had just been there... If she hadn't been so foolish that day...

_"So, you all agree that we must fight back. And you see how that woman... how the Empire cannot be forgiven. That we must wipe them all out until not a single one of them remains..."_

'No... I was too late, even before this mess...' Raine squeezed down on the chair, closing her eyes as she fought a wave of nausea. Those words, those cruelly spoken words of setting flame to the Empire and leaving none to survive in his wake of war... It had made her blood run cold with dread. He had meant it. She knew he did, and that horrified her almost more than anything else. Even before she had been lost in the fighting, she had held onto a sliver of hope that somehow, some way, she could manage to help him from falling further into the cycle of revenge. That was far beyond her now. Whatever he had suffered these past five years, living as the dead, fleeing Imperial soldiers and staining his hands with blood each time he tried to survive... It had changed him, and she was deathly afraid of who he had become, and how far out of her reach he now was.

If there was any solace to be had, she supposed it was the fact that not everyone had changed so drastically, or so violently. Her students, for better or for worse, were all mostly the same. It was true that war had hardened them, that they had grown into better soldiers in the past five years, but almost all of them were as she remembered them being as students. That much had been proven by how she had been greeted, when the fighting had died down, and they all had been given a moment to catch their breath, and finally see one another without the fear of battle weighing them down.

Annette had nearly knocked her clean off her feet in her race to hug her, and only Mercedes' laughing aid had kept her from going down into the muck with the tangerine-haired mage on top of her. Then Mercedes had embraced her, too, her voice tight with tears as she expressed her relief and gratitude to be seeing her again after so long. Even Petra and Ingrid, usually polite and somewhat formal had given in to their baser desires once Mercedes and Annette had let her go, and Raine had been forced to stand awkwardly yet happily in their arms, wondering at their growth, and moreso at their obvious heartache for what they had seen as her loss.

Even Felix had looked at her warmly, or with what she knew to be his version of warmth, before he had made a snide remark of her coming back only when she must have assumed it was convenient. She had been greatly amused to see Mercedes pinch his arm reproachfully in response, and had been forced to bite the inside of her cheek when it had worked in subduing the normally so fiery swordsman. He had shrugged his shoulders and averted his eyes, taking one large step to the right and away from the blond healer before continuing on in a subdued voice that, regardless, he was glad to see her again. It meant the tides were turning, if she was there amongst them, and he took comfort in that much, at the very least.

Sylvain had followed the girls' example in sweeping her up in a hug, and she had barely a moment to breathe between his tight squeeze and his delighted exclamation on her appearance. In five years they had all grown and changed, embracing both their duties and their passions, but she was still the same as ever. His smile had been broad and honest, almost sweet, when he had noted that their professor was still as they remembered without a single hair out of place. It was good to see her that way, in the midst of all the chaos, and it made him remember better days when war had been a distant thought, and not a way of life.

Raphael on the other hand had taken her clear off her feet, earning laughter from most present when she had gasped in alarm, and when he had set her down she could only look up at him with a mixture of amazement and shock. How had he grown even larger since she had last seen him? It didn't seem like it should have been possible. He was now wearing much more comfortable-looking clothing, and his hair had grown into a wild mess, but his smile was still the same as ever; warm and earnest and gentle when he had told her how happy he was to see her again.

Ashe had been hesitant to embrace her, but after everyone else had done the same, Raine had chosen to follow their example and hadn't wasted a moment in pulling him close for a quick hug. Whatever reservations he had had melted away almost instantly when he answered, chuckling at his own embarrassment before he looked at her with such kind warmth in his eyes that it had made her ache. He had spoken for all of them, explaining how sorely they had missed her, and how glad they were that she was back, and that she was unhurt. That above all was their chief concern and source of joy, and it had both hurt and made her smile, knowing that their love for her ran as deep as hers did for them.

Warin had approached her last, looking as if he had see a ghost, and she had been all too eager to throw herself into her elder brother's arms for a fierce hug. He had only hesitated a moment before returning it, squeezing the breath from her lungs, and following it up with a nuzzle and a shaky, tired sigh that told her of too much grief, too much fighting, and a well-earned chance of hope and peace. He had been loathe to let her go, likely why he had been the last to come to her after her students had all finished with their greetings, but he had promised her they would talk, and talk at length, once they had the time to do so. Considering the state he looked to be in, battered, weathered and exhausted, Raine hoped that time would come quickly, if not for her own sake, than most certainly for his.

With the addition of the Knights of Seiros, who had seen the gathering and come to investigate, it truly looked as if the beginnings of a rebellion was forming. Seteth had been more than happy to give her command of the men he had been watching over in Rhea's absence, though she had initially balked when she realized he was expecting her to lead. It was true, that Rhea's last words had been a passing of the torch, but Raine still wasn't sure that such a thing was a duty she could carry. If anything, it should have fallen to Seteth himself to lead, or even Gilbert, as there was no question that Dimitri was unfit to have such a burden on his shoulders. It was true that they were obeying his wishes to march against the Empire, but his bloodlust had made everyone, not just her, uneasy to trust his judgement.

Which meant that the role of leadership was falling to her, and she hadn't known what to make of it when Seteth had said so. Even if Rhea had put her in charge at the last, she hadn't been there to do a thing before she, too, had gone missing in the chaos of the battle. She had been gone for five years, and much had changed in her absence. How could she be expected to lead, when she barely knew the most basic details of the war that was raging all about them? She felt like she had when she had been brought on a professor, far out of her depth and grasping at straws in a vain attempt to keep afloat, and those expecting looks she had received from both her students and colleagues alike... It was too much.

It made her grateful that Warin had spoken up then, turning everyone's attention to the state of their "home base" and its dire need of repair and reconstruction. It would be impossible of course for them as they were in their small numbers to really do much to restore Garreg Mach to its prime, but they could at least make it liveable again if they all turned their attention to cleaning and repairing what they could. Word would spread of the monastery being occupied again, and with it would bring allies and enemies alike to their doors, and in the precious time they had to prepare, it was best they spent it on fortifying what would be their home for the battle, and the living to come in the days ahead.

She was glad for the menial work, as it allowed her to evade the weight of responsibility for the time being, and gave her time alone with her thoughts. It had all happened in such a rush that she was still drinking all of it in, still aching with the thought of her five lost years, and now trying to balance out the new weights that were being tossed so carelessly on her unprepared shoulders. She was at a loss, scrambling for solid ground, but there was little doubt that she was needed. Her former students looked to her so hopefully, and even Seteth had chosen to hand over the reigns of leadership to her, and how could she toss any of it aside when she was there? Hadn't she, at the last, wished she could have done more? Was it not her chance now to undo all of her former mistakes?

The thoughts made her head spin, and she stopped her moving entirely as she forced in a long, shaky breath despite herself... She had wanted to work, to exercise her lethargic body and put her thoughts deep and away, but she was proving incapable of even such a minor task. She could make a laundry list of why she was so easily distracted and unable to keep her mind on task, but it didn't really matter. She had been given a chance to work, and it was work that needed doing. She couldn't simply put it aside, just because her mind wouldn't quiet for her to focus. That would be unfair to everyone else.

Gritting her teeth, Raine shook her head hard from side to side before squaring her shoulders again defiantly. She would box it all up and put on a mask, a familiar, cold mask if need be, so she could do the work she had been assigned. She wouldn't leave it all in others' hands, no matter how tired or frazzled she felt. She was needed. She was being called upon. It was only natural that she respond to that call, no matter how ill-prepared and equipped she felt for it. Had she not pulled through then, when she had been made a professor against her will? She had risen to the task then. She could do so now. It wasn't as if she had much of a choice in the matter anyway.

Raine turned back to the rubble, kneeling down to gather stone back into her arms to clear out the pathway, only to be stopped by the sound of approaching footfall. She stood at once, recognizing the sound of heavy boots, and she turned to see her brother appearing from around the corner with an overlarge armful of books being carefully cradled to his chest. She still paused at the sight of him despite his familiar face, as everything else about him had changed since she had last truly had a good look at him.

His clothes now mimicked what their father had worn, fur lined garments of dark grey and black, and sturdy, leather-bound armour for his shoulders, forearms, and legs. Chainmail peeked out underneath his tunic, a favourite of most mercenaries capable of bearing the weight, and Raine knew full well that Warin was more than capable of it. He had taken the chance of the returning merchants and blacksmiths to see to his gear, which had been in a horrid state when he had first arrived, and now his gauntlets and lance were in top shape, and still carried on his person even though there was absolutely no threat of battle breaking out inside of the monastery. Old habits seemed to die hard, but the weight of his weaponry and armour didn't seem to be a bother to him as he handled his overlarge load with ease, but Raine still couldn't help but notice the scars that were peeking above his collar, and sleeves.

His forearms were a mess of criss-crossing blade wounds that had made it through the metal of his gauntlets, and though he covered it well with his weapons, she had caught a glimpse of them all the same when he had been equipping himself earlier in the market. His hands were of the same shape, darkened with cuts and one or two magical burns, and she mused he was lucky that he had all of his fingers still, if he had taken so much damage over the past five years. She could imagine that his chest and legs were of the same sort, scarred deeply by his years of battle, but she hadn't had a chance to look, nor did she want to ask. That scar on his throat, a long, dark mark that slid just under his ear and down his neck and towards his collarbone had spoken of a near-fatal injury, and that was more than enough for her to see to know she wanted to know nothing else of his collection of wounds.

Still, if any of this was a concern to him, he didn't seem to notice, and that only drew her attention to a new addition to his scars. He was sporting a cut lip, as well as a rapidly forming bruise on his lower jaw, and her eyes narrowed as she stood and forgot her work to approach him without thinking. Such an injury was not new to her, she had been around mercenaries all of her life and she knew a face that had been punched when she saw one, and she looked at him with both concern and exasperation as she cut off his greeting with a tired, "Did you already get yourself into a fight with someone? You've been here two days, Warin. _Two days_! Who did you anger enough to have them throw a hand at you, and do I want to know what they look like if they managed to land it?"

"I'm fine, thank you for asking..." Warin couldn't help but chuckle at his sister's concern, and she shook her head as she fought valiantly to keep herself from rolling her eyes at him. He turned slightly to set his load of books down on a nearby table, and he rubbed absently at his still aching jaw as Raine looked at him expectantly for an answer. He was glad to see that despite the growing weight he had seen crippling her shoulders that she still seemed to have her old spirit, and it reminded him that if he was best to help her shoulder the weight that he should act as normal rather than anything else. Seeing her again had been a shock to his system, a douse of icy-cold water to bring what had been nearly dead roaring back to life, and she made it easy, too easy, perhaps, to fall into old patterns as he explained idly, "It wasn't a scuffle... and this one, I actually earned. So, don't go worrying about it."

Raine didn't answer for a moment as she took in his words and wondered at the mystery of them. Her brother was a scrapper. He always had been, ever since he had been a child. He had been forced to prove himself as a soldier early amongst their father's men, and he had earned their respect with his intuition and his skill on the battlefield. While he wasn't quick to fight unless someone brought up their mother, his attitude always did have a way of provoking others into wanting a piece of him if they could have it, but usually most learned that they were biting off far more than they could chew once the gauntlet was thrown and Warin was fighting in earnest. It was unusual though, for him to be sporting an injury and not explaining how it happened, and she looked at him closely as she mused, "Still... That looks like it hurts. Do you want me to fetch someone for you?"

"No, there's no need for that. It does hurt, but I expected it to happen, and I earned it. It's a good reminder of the fact that I'm an arse." Warin replied with an errant wave of his hand as he continued to rub his jaw with the other. It certainly did sting, and he imagined it would take a little while before it stopped, but he was well aware that leaving it to a healer would only make him seem weak, and unapologetic for the behaviour that had earned him the punch. And he was certainly apologetic, though he couldn't quite admit he regretted it. Still, he shrugged his shoulders a bit as he mused with a trace of a bitter chuckle, "Shamir has quite an arm. I shouldn't have been surprised she could put me on my back with a punch, considering what she can do with a bow."

"Shamir punched you in the face?"

The look of utter confusion and shock on his sister's face was enough to make him want to laugh when it was combined with such an outlandish-sounding statement. It _did_ sound a bit outside of the realm of belief, especially when so many crucial details were lacking, but Warin wasn't ready to share such things with her just yet. She had more than enough on her plate without taking his personal life into account, and he still wasn't sure where it was going yet, either. It was better to keep the details to himself for the time being, if only to prevent her from worrying too much, and he shook his head as he reached out to absently ruffle her hair in a fond gesture, "Yeah. Long story."

"I can imagine..." Raine agreed with raised eyebrows, but from his tone and the somewhat distant, pained look in his navy eyes... She decided it was best to leave the matter where it was. Whatever had happened between him and the Dagdan sniper was not something she should wade into carelessly, and even if he was her brother, she wanted to respect everything that had changed him in the past five years. If that did happen to include the fact that a woman was becoming a major factor in his life... Well, she would watch, but keep her opinions to herself until he was ready to tell her about it of his own volition. "I won't ask, then. Just... Don't get into anything you can't handle, and don't get yourself crippled. We'll need you for the days ahead."

"Unfortunately getting into things I can't handle has become a practise of mine these last five years." Warin remarked wryly, and he watched as Raine immediately averted her eyes to the ground as if the words hurt her. His own eyes narrowed, and he sighed inwardly as he realized this would become a taboo subject between the two of them, if he permitted it to linger. He reached for her shoulder, squeezing carefully before he began firmly, but not unkindly, "Hey... Look, I know. You've a lot on your plate right now, and it's difficult for you. I'm not about to pretend otherwise, and I'd prefer that you don't, either. Things have changed. People have changed... but that doesn't mean that you or I have. We're still siblings. I'm still going to be looking after you. Hide whatever it is you want from the kids, if you want to do so... but don't hide from me. You're a poor liar."

Raine let out a tired breath, understanding exactly what it was he was trying to get at without needing more to be said. It was irritating, how well he could read her, but at the same time, it gave her comfort in what was a strange and unsettling time. Everything was both so new and so familiar all at once, and she needed the grounding quite desperately. If anyone was to give that to her, it was her brother, and she was grateful that he was so willing to indulge her despite what had to be an awkward and painful topic for him, despite how cavalier he had been treating it. "Is it true, then? That you were being chased by Imperial forces for the past several years?"

Warin raised an eyebrow at the question, and though it wasn't as if he had no intention of answering it, he still had to take pause at it being asked. He knew already for a fact that she had been in conversations with Gilbert, Ashe and Petra since her return, and he also was well aware Gilbert at the very least would have told her everything he had said, ad verbatim, to boot. He wondered if she mistrusted them, or if she simply didn't believe he had told them the truth, and he tilted his head to the side to look at her closely as he answered her question with one of his own, "You've already heard the story, haven't you? I imagine Gilbert filled you in. Or Petra, or Ashe at the very least. Why do you want me to repeat it?"

Raine scoffed, shaking her head at the reply that told her nothing. It wasn't as if she didn't believe her students, or Gilbert, but she was well aware of her brother's real nature. What he had told them, and what they had told her in turn did sound true enough, but she doubted it was the whole of the matter. Warin was a blunt man, but he was also incredibly private. He would only tell them the bare minimum of what they needed to know, never the whole of it, and she did not want to coast by on a second-hand account. It was not nearly enough for her to believe, especially when he was standing in front of her as he was, and she explained that with a slightly edged tone to her voice, "They told me what you told them... but I want to hear it from _your_ mouth. The whole story. I know you, Warin. I won't be satisfied until you tell me what happened, in your own words. I won't believe a second-hand account, even from my own students. Not when it comes to you."

Warin sighed, and he absently scratched at his cheek as he wondered where it was best to begin. She had the broad strokes of the story, and she did clearly believe it, but the details of it all... Sometimes it still felt as if he was still processing all of it, and it had been five whole years of living on the run. Putting it all into words, especially for her, was not easy for him, and he knew that showed clearly enough on his face. She was patient, however, and there was no look of judgement or unhappiness for his pause, and that, at least, set him more at ease. He began slowly, hesitantly as he wondered just how much she really wanted, or needed to hear just yet, "For the most part, I _have_ been on the run for five years. Ever since the fall of the monastery, if you want to be exact. There were orders, explicit orders, for the Imperial troops when it concerned me. The princess wanted me dead in that battle, and she wanted my head delivered to her to prove it. I was essentially chased out of the monastery, before the troops took it, in my efforts to get away clean. But they pursued me, quite doggedly, I might add... I had to run quite a ways before I could turn back around to take them all in. The hunts started soon afterwards."

Raine's eyes narrowed, and she wondered at what exactly her brother had done to warrant such an extreme response from Edelgard. She had been aware already that the two had their differences back in the academy, yet to know she was so personally invested in seeing him dead... She wasn't quite sure if it impressed or worried her. She, herself, had already seen how deeply Edelgard hated her. Comparing her to her allies, to those pale-skinned monsters who had provided her with power and support before she had been crowned, had been a potent trigger for her rage. It was very likely she thought the same for her brother, and she shook her head as she muttered under her breath, "A waste of men, if she actually knew you... but personal orders for your head? For five years? Did she really brand you that much of a threat to her? A single man? Even if you are my sibling, that seems a bit much for someone waging war on the entirety of the continent."

"I'll be honest, I don't know if she gave those orders personally for the hunts, or if came from Hubert acting as her mouthpiece. I saw the orders myself on the first strike team that came after me, but it's not as if they were signed." Warin admitted with a vague gesture of his hands, and he shook his head as Raine eyed him with a speculative look on her face. She was thinking hard, drinking in his every word in order to piece the puzzle together, and he took that as a sign to continue, and did so without delay, "What I do know however is that every Imperial soldier I came across in the last five years made immediate attempts for my head when they realized who I was. We can speculate all day on why that is, but it is what happened. The hunts continued for almost three years, unimpeded, before they started to taper off. That was when the invasions started to become more frequent, and the fighting more intense, so I imagine they were tired of committing men to chasing me when they were needed more at the front... It didn't help that none were returning from their missions. I imagine that was a dent in someone's ego."

Raine said nothing, watching as Warin absently rubbed at his forearms at his words without seeming to notice as he spoke. His eyes were distant with memory, but his body was tense, as if he was expecting an enemy to leap out of the nearest corridor without warning. She had noticed already he had developed a penchant for keeping his back to the wall, and his eyes were constantly scanning, unceasing and wary, for all exits and entrances as if he simply could not relax. Five years of being chased had changed him, had turned him hyper-vigilant, but moreso than that... Raine shook her head as she spoke very quietly, "That must have been difficult... Having to kill to many soldiers all by yourself."

"It became easier, after a time... but truthfully, I didn't care for that. I've been a mercenary all my life, but killing should never be _easy_." Warin agreed with a sombre shake of his head, and he found himself squeezing his right arm tightly as flashes of faces tore through his mind like a racing stallion. All of them were burnt behind his eyelids like portraits, visiting him even in his dreams, and robbing him of even a moment of rest. He was tired, down to his very bones, but he could not allow himself to show it. He dropped his hand with great effort, shaking his head again as he sighed heavily, "I had to numb myself to it... Especially after the first time. I let one man go, from the first team that chased me. I thought perhaps if I sent a message back, that I was only going to cost her men in the long run, that perhaps she'd forego hunting me... But he returned with a second team, and I earned this for my act of merciful pragmatism. After that... I couldn't afford to allow anyone to live again. What was the point, if they'd just be turned about and sent back to me? It was easier, both for them and myself, to aim to kill from the outset. Trying to save someone, anyone, would just put me into the ground."

Raine watched as he lifted a hand to his throat, a nail scratching down the length of the scar on his neck in memory, and she winced as she imagined how heavily that had to weigh on her brother's shoulders. It was a tactic their father had employed many a time when they had been up against a much weaker force, and more often than not, it had served them well in preventing needless bloodshed... but knowing that following so closely in their father's footsteps had almost led him into an early grave... It made her stomach twist. He had nearly died, trying to save future men, and it hurt as she murmured, "I'm sorry, Warin."

"Don't be. I made the choice to continue as I did... and luckily enough for me, the hunts eased enough that I could begin to move more freely again once the war turned more chaotic." Warin shook away her apology even though he appreciated the empathic place that it came from, and he reached to squeeze her shoulder before he continued with his story for her. He knew the details were disturbing, he knew she didn't like what she was hearing, but he owed her the truth, and he would hide nothing as he explained, "That was when I began to have hunts of my own... I remembered your promise with your house. And I had begun to wonder... Was it possible a rebellion could be started, if enough of your students returned? I didn't see why it wouldn't be, even if it was just your house and no one else to serve as the backbone... However, my idealism wasn't quite shared with those I sought out."

"I'd heard that much..." Raine said with a sigh of her own, and she shook her head with both annoyance and exasperation at her brother's exploits, and how poorly it had gone for him. On one hand she understood why he had failed so spectacularly... He was not a charismatic man, despite the fact that he was likely one of the better soldiers of the age. He was simply not diplomatic enough, and his harsh words and manner of speaking didn't endear him to many. Especially to nobles, who were used to more respect than Warin was ever willing to give. Still, it was disheartening to know that those he had approached had turned him down so coldly, so effortlessly all the same. "Claude shot you down immediately, didn't he?"

"He barely looked at me, for all the trouble I went through to find the damned brat." Warin answered with a poorly hidden snarl of irritation, and he had to take in a deep breath to remember that it wasn't his sister's fault that the leader of the Alliance was such a self-centred coward. It had not been one of his finer moments, either, realizing that the young man cared nothing for him, especially if he could offer him nothing of substance but a simple idea, but that was beyond the point then. "I had nothing to offer him, so to him, I wasn't worth wasting time on. Mind you, now that _you've_ returned, he may very well change his mind if approached again... but I wouldn't trust him as far as you could throw him. He doesn't care about the Alliance. He'll drop his facade of a scheming, well-intentioned leader the moment it becomes convenient for him, and he'll leave it, and Fódlan, far behind him when he does."

"But you also said you didn't believe the Alliance as a whole was lost. Did you mean that?"

"I did. Claude only speaks for himself, not for the whole of the people he leads. The fact that the Alliance is still fighting a civil war right at this moment is proof of that." Warin replied firmly, and that was the one saving grace of the failure his trip into the east had been. He had seen the loyalty of the true Alliance army. They fought not for their leader but for their homeland, and even should their commander leave it, they would never follow in his footsteps. Their history was a proud one, and they were a proud people in return. They didn't trust their young leader, but they did not need to in order to fight a war to defend their land and people. "He will leave them, but they won't leave their lands or their people. If you appeal to the masses and not to Claude, you will find allies willing to lend aid to the rebellion... but Claude will try to use you if you do. Whether or not you're willing to become a pawn for him is up to you to decide, but I'm aware that there may not be much choice in the matter."

"No, there may not be... We're so few, and our resources are even less. We need more men, we need more supplies, and that means we will need to reach out to anyone who can provide us aid eventually... But I won't look to the Alliance for it first. Not with what you've told me." Raine agreed with a nod, but she still looked tired with the knowledge she was quickly putting into place for future plans. She already was aware of the houses in the Kingdom who were still loyal to their liege, and they would be the first to give aid if called upon, but it would be a tricky business getting soldiers and supplies from those who were already expending men and gold on the frontlines of their own war. That was simple logic, and she did not need to be a seasoned commander or tactician to know it. "The Kingdom will be our best bet, for an initial attempt at getting what we will need to start a real rebellion... but even then..."

"Even then, the prince isn't interested in securing his own lands first, and consolidating, as would be wisest." Warin finished her sentence for her, and though they both were aware of how right he was, he took no satisfaction in the way Raine winced underneath his words. She looked positively ashamed, and he had to wonder why. It was not as if she was responsible for how Dimitri was acting now, or his sheer insanity. The prince had made it clear enough what his end goal was; the destruction of the Empire in totality... but he had no means of achieving it without warm bodies to throw at the Imperial army, and now that he had them, he would go ahead with his mad plans, regardless of anyone else's protests. He had proved that already, with his utter dismissal of the reconstruction efforts that were taking place as they spoke. "He wants to march straight to Enbarr, with this meagre little assortment of men... It's madness."

"He's not well."

"Not well? Those are the words you're going to use to describe him?" Warin had to resist the urge to shake his sister for daring to underplay the reality of what they were facing, but that hurt, shameful look on her face was a balm to his irritation. She knew she wasn't speaking plainly, but she tried to defend her student all the same on instinct alone. It was clear in the troubled look in her eyes, and while it helped him understand her motives... He could not permit her to sugarcoat things. Even if her students would do the same, he would not. Especially when he knew that Gilbert had no intentions of disobeying his liege, even if it meant running headfirst into the business end of an axe, and it made his voice sharp and unforgiving as he pointed out coldly, "You've been gone five years, and I know it's a shock to you, but you can't look at him and simply brush it off as him not "being well", Raine. I know how you feel for him, I truly do, but that's not the matter at hand. He's mad. And if you allow him to lead, he will get you, and everyone else here, killed before you can even so much as put a dent in the Empire."

"I know that." Raine answered quietly, but she felt the sting all the same even though she knew it was not a personal affront. She had tried herself to appeal to Dimitri, but had only been answered with derision. It was different than that simmering wrath that she had been met with last, when he had been so consumed with vengeance, because at least he hadn't turned that on her. Instead he had simply ignored her then, too lost in himself and his emotions, but now he was lashing out in every possible direction, and she was taking the brunt of it. It was her responsibility to do so, no matter how much it made her ache, but that cold, mocking stare of his, his cruel and flippant orders... She could not help but be hurt by it, no matter how much she wished she wasn't. "I do, Warin... I know that where he's heading will lead us all down a path we can't come back from... but I won't let it happen. Even if he decides I'm an enemy to be cut down... I won't let him kill himself, or his friends, for his vengeance."

"Should he raise his lance at you, I'll cut him down first. I don't care who he is, or what he means to the Kingdom. He doesn't get to idly threaten you without repercussions." Warin spoke through his teeth, and he felt his hands clench instinctively at the very thought. What was worse was how close to reality it seemed to be, when five years ago, five short years ago, he would have laughed at the notion that Dimitri was capable of raising a hand to his beloved professor. But times had changed... and so had the people who had been swept along in its river. The prince could not distinguish friend from foe any longer... yet Warin had no sympathy for him, even if his sister did. "I'm here for one reason and one reason alone... and that's you. The rest of Fódlan can burn itself down to the ground, and I meant what I said when I claimed I'd turn my back on it to let it do so... but you won't let that happen without a fight. You've made your choice to fight back, so I'll throw my lot in with you... but that doesn't mean I need to give a damn about the delusional prince that's been brought up as your figurehead."

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that... If you don't want to fight, then you shouldn't be here at all. Using me as justification to stay... It's not fair. You've spent five years fighting already, and then another for the church, against your will. I don't want you fighting again, for a cause you don't care for, just because it's mine." Raine shook her head, unable to hide her irritation at her brother's words regardless of how comforting it was to hear that he was standing beside her despite his own feelings. It hurt her to know he felt such disgust for how the world had turned out, yet she couldn't entirely deny that he had every right to have become so resentful. What had he done to earn being drawn into this war, except for being at the beck and call of the church that he could not in any feasible way escape? He had been a pawn then, and had suffered for five years because of it. She well understood why he was ready to wash his hands of things, and in all honesty, she couldn't say she didn't feel the same need, even if she could never commit herself to it.

"I don't need to love Fódlan to stay and protect it. I just need to love you. I lost you once. It won't happen again. If you're choosing to fight, then I'm fighting beside you, regardless of how I feel about this entire mess. That's all there is to it, and you can't talk me out of it." Warin dismissed her concerns bluntly, but not unkindly as he saw the sympathy in her eyes, as well as that momentary look of want flicker in and out of her seafoam-coloured irises. She was not as selfish as he was. She had learned to love, both as an individual, and in a very broad sense. She felt too much obligation to her students, to the monastery, to everyone, to ever be able to turn her back on it all and seek her own path. It didn't matter that she felt crushed by the burden that was being placed on her shoulders, and he was well aware she was stumbling under the pressure... because she only felt it right to stand underneath it. If that was the choice she had made, then he would help her take that weight. His own feelings were irrelevant. "I know full well I'm a cold-hearted bastard, and a selfish one to boot... but I won't be caught turning my back on you, or the things you love, just because my views of the world differ from yours."

They were sweet words, for her brother, but it didn't give Raine any comfort. It only made her exasperated, and she looked at him and took in the scars he was showing, both outside and in with a deep, wrenching aching in her stomach. How much had he suffered already? How much more suffering would he go through, before he was capable of living a life he wanted, free from obligations of any kind, even ones he imposed on himself? She couldn't imagine, and that only bothered her all the more. She didn't deserve that kind of loyalty. That kind of love. Not when it hurt him so much. She folded her arms over her stomach, shaking her head again as she muttered sourly, "Putting you life on the line for my views doesn't make me happy, Warin."

"Then how about I make it conditional?" Warin asked, and he had to hide a smile as his sister blinked, and looked at him with unmasked confusion and surprise. Her lack of a response only urged him further, and he rubbed the back of his neck before gesturing about to their surroundings before he explained for her wide-eyed stare, "I'll stay and fight for you, and to boot, I won't make any more remarks that you don't like... but in return, you just need to make me one promise. If you do that, then you don't need to worry about feeling unhappy because I'm here. It's a contract, not an obligation. That makes things more than fair, doesn't it?"

"That depends on the condition... but you've at least got my attention." Raine admitted, and she looked at him with a mixture of wonder and exasperation. He was too much like their father, changing things on a dime simply because he could, and she wasn't sure if that trait was endearing or annoying, even with the stinging that accompanied that sweet familiarity. But she put that aside quickly, it was not something she was ready to face just yet, especially now of all times, and instead she crossed her arms over her stomach as she looked him over with a tilt of her head, "All right, I'll bite, Warin... What is it that you want me to promise?"

"Don't die. Make it out of this war unscathed. It's a miracle you're here today, and I'll give you that, but I don't want you needing another. I'll do my damnedest to ensure you won't. But I want to hear you promise that _you'll_ do whatever it is it takes to survive, too." Warin answered firmly, and he watched with a slight smile as Raine clearly didn't seem ready to have heard such a thing from him of all people. She was looking at him almost as if he had grown a second head, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling more broadly as he continued on clearly for her, "Give me that, and you'll have my loyalty like any good mercenary, as well as my professional silence. Unless you ask for my opinion, I won't give it. Do we have a deal?"

"You... We're mercenaries, Warin. You know full well mercenaries can't and don't make those kind of promises." Raine replied after a long, painful moment, and she ran a hand tiredly through her hair as she looked her brother up and down with both confusion and exasperation. It wasn't like him to say such things, or to go against mercenary superstition. He was a mercenary in blood and spirit, and he was exactly like his father in that. He knew better than to go against their vocation's risks... He had always known better. This was a promise she couldn't make in good faith, simply because she knew full well he could not do the same. "Especially during wartime... You know exactly how it is for us. This is most dangerous time to be a sellsword, even if it is the most profitable. Have you forgotten all of Father's lessons?"

"You're not a mercenary anymore. _You_ can make that promise." Warin pointed out with a raised eyebrow, and Raine twitched with both surprise and uncertainty furrowing her brow as his words clearly took time to sink in. It wasn't something he wanted to point out, as it made it seem as if she was being pulled farther and farther away from their roots, but it was the one time he was willing to take full advantage of it all the same. She was _not_ a mercenary any longer. She was hardly even a professor now. She was turning into a commander, whether or not she wished for it, and that left her free, and he explained that for her with a shrug of his shoulders, "You aren't bound by old superstitions, and you've never gave a damn about them anyway. There's nothing stopping you from making me that promise but your own paranoia. And do you really believe you're going to die on me?"

"You are utterly exasperating, do you know that?" Raine let out another long, tired breath, but she was well aware when she had been beaten. Her brother had effectively boxed her into a corner, and there was no way out of it. And, in a way... She supposed she wasn't quite as annoyed as she ought to be about it. It was just insurance, insurance he sorely needed, and he was telling her so without using the exact words. She could understand that much, and she offered a crooked smile before extending her hand as she capitulated to him, "Okay... Okay. Fine. I promise that I won't die. Or at the very least, I promise to try my best not to. If it makes you be quiet, it's worth trying."

"Good. Then we're on the same page." Warin took her hand in his for a quick, firm handshake, before he pulled her close without preamble. She laughed as he caught her effortlessly against his chest, but he didn't mind it as his arms wrapped tightly about her to hold her close. It had only been for a moment then, when he had seen her first, that he'd allowed himself to lose his composure and be the last one to take her into an embrace. Stepping aside for her students had been the right thing to do, the proper thing, but his arms had been feeling painfully empty ever since. He squeezed tightly, wary of himself and of her, but still unable to help it as he let out a bit of a pained breath, "I meant what I said, Raine. You won't be needing another miracle. I missed you. I won't let it happen again."

Raine returned his squeeze carefully, well aware of the trembling in his arms and knowing exactly why he couldn't be so steady despite all of his attempts to appear so. He was broken somewhere, not just battered. His five years alone had done more to him than he was ready to admit, or perhaps just willing to show, but Raine didn't need his words or expressions to know her brother. They were closer than that, even if five years had passed and left one of them stagnant and the other forced to move on ahead. She leaned into him gently, closing her eyes for his comfort and hers as she murmured, "I'm sorry that I left you alone... and I won't let that happen again, either. I promise. Wherever we go from here on out... We go together. For certain this time."

"For certain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> It's never really addressed, how losing out on five years really effects Byleth, but I suppose that's kind of the point of them, in a way. So much of what happens to them is something they're forced to roll with before any real idea of compartmentalizing actually has time to take place. Whether it be becoming a professor, losing their father, possibly dying, and then returning, and then taking up a leadership role either under duress (Verdant Wind), or because they're just that desperately needed in order to get things done (Crimson Flower)... In Azure Moon, their position is a little more interesting, as well as precarious, as it's obvious Dimitri (to a certain point) is the one calling the shots, and Byleth takes a more of backseat with their attempts to reign him in, confront his behaviour, or attempts to invoke his empathy. While it's unspoken that Byleth is leading in a general sense, there's little question Dimitri is "in charge" when it comes to what the army will be doing, regardless of the worry and doubt his mindset and actions cause his comrades... Not to mention the sheer danger they're put in because of his single-minded desire to hunt down Edelgard.
> 
> Now, to clear some things up... I am a huge fan of Dimitri, but in no way do I excuse any of his actions, be it past, or present. He's an extremely flawed individual, capable of great cruelty to both friends and foe, and while he goes through rapid character growth (a bit too rapid, but I blame story restraints more than anything else there), it certainly doesn't excuse anything he's done. He's right to castigate himself for his behaviour and actions, and he's also right to doubt his ability to be a "good man", let alone a good ruler. His heart is certainly in the right place in the end, once his mind joins up with it, but there's no doubting he did wrong, and deserves to be called out on it rather than easily forgiven.
> 
> I don't intend to give him a free pass, nor do I intend to let his actions go without consequence. While some of his behaviours had certain consequences that led to his change of heart, I don't intend to keep all of them the same. Which I'll be changing will be my little secret for awhile, but I do want to just make it clear here and now that Raine's not going to easily forgive him, nor will the rest of the Blue Lions, when the time comes for character development to take place. This does unfortunately mean Raine's going to be having a much more difficult time with him, so expect plenty of angst in that department... Warin's getting off lucky, and I still put him through the ringer, and there's more to come to boot. X'D
> 
> Also, just to address one last thing, I have been asked a few times about the possibility of my version of Azure Moon taking hints from Silver Snow, or even Verdant Wind... My response to this is: Yes. But I will not provide any details, and I will politely ask for no recommendations on how that should happen, why, or guesses on how I'll be going about it. The story as a whole is already mostly set in the bones, but I tend to like my bigger projects to grow on their own so I can still surprise both myself and my readers as the "details" show themselves to me as I write. So, you've your answer, and I hope it satisfies you!
> 
> Thanks as always for reading this far, and I hope to see you again in my next chapter. Things are moving a tad slow this moon (mostly to catch everyone up and smooth over that "return" that felt too rushed) but I promise I'll be getting back into the action side of things very soon. Please drop me a review should you feel the need, and I'll see you again as soon as I possibly can! Have a good one, guys!
> 
> Mood: Excited.
> 
> Listening To: "Shelter" - Porter Robinson and Madeon
> 
> ~ Sky


	3. Giving What Belongs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Rating: Romance, Friendship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort. (M)
> 
> Characters: Warin, Shamir.
> 
> Summary: It had been five years since she had last seen his face, and to say it had made her erupt with emotions had been quite the understatement. She didn't regret striking him, and he didn't seem as if he thought her wrong to do so, but it had left them with an uneasy sort of tension resting between them now as she did her best to avoid him entirely from then on. It had been with surprise, then, when he had slipped a note under her door, asking to speak to her only a handful of days later... and she had sighed with irritation before crumpling it in one hand. More parchment. It was becoming a bad habit of his. Yet... She couldn't say no. He made that impossible, and she hated that about him.

**Guardian Moon**

**Garreg Mach Halls**

**Late Night**

It hadn't been hard to find him. He hadn't left explicit instruction on where to meet him in that note he had slid underneath her door in the barracks, but she was still surprised he hadn't bothered to go too far. He was sitting just beyond the stables, barely a stone's throw away from the barracks, and he looked up at the sound of the gate closing behind her. It was as if he didn't care who could possibly overhear them, or see them, but she supposed he had grown beyond that since the last time they had spoken. Had it really been five years since they had sat together on a scouting mission, whiling away the time with idle chatter, or hedging bets on foolish things that didn't matter at all to either of them? It felt like that had taken place a whole lifetime ago. The thought made her feel an ache somewhere deep in her chest. A lifetime ago... How many lifetimes had she lived, then, if that was really the case?

Shamir shook away the thoughts, taking care to keep her expression absolutely neutral as she approached the mercenary that had uncharacteristically called her out. It wasn't his way, being so bold and demanding her time, and she wondered idly if that was why she had decided to meet him. He had never once made an assumption that she owed him anything. Rather, he always seemed to be too polite when it concerned her, and he took more consideration of her emotions than she did. It was a constant surprise with him, and not one she had wholly disliked, but... Times had changed since then. Five whole years. And she was just as changed as he was, as she watched the firelight of a nearby lamp illuminate that dark scar she had first noticed crossing his throat when they had seen one another again.

"I didn't think you'd come."

The words brought a wry smile to her face, despite it all. It was cold out, misting his breath when he spoke, and his face had taken on a pink tinge to prove he had been waiting for longer than she probably wanted to know for her appearance. That wasn't exactly comforting knowledge, but she shoved it ruthlessly aside for another time. She hadn't thought she would come, either, and that thought was an annoying one. She was still angry with him, still seething over the way he had been dangling out of her reach for five entire years, and that made her voice sharp as she answered him brusquely, "I didn't think I would come, either. So you best make this worth my time. I could be sleeping right now. I know you're not quite aware, but I'm really beginning to get sick of messages on parchment."

Warin winced, but he knew her criticisms were well-deserved, and he had no plans to defend himself from it. Yet... He didn't quite regret it, which he knew showed on his face all the same. How could he? He had been well aware that most would assume him dead when they'd fail to find his body in the wreckage of the monastery, and he had gone so deep into hiding that there was little chance the knights would ever find him... but he hadn't allowed it to stay that way for long. Not with the memory of her lips on his, her svelte body pressed tightly against his chest as they hid in the alcove, embracing for too short of a moment before it had all gone to hell. No, leaving her to believe he was dead wasn't an option, but reaching out to the knights was not one either... His solution had been a middle-ground, and it made him rub awkwardly at his hair as he forced himself to ask, "How many of my letters did you receive?"

"Twelve. If you wrote more, they never reached me. Twelve letters in five years, and I never had an address to return a reply to." Shamir's answer came coldly, though her heart did ache a little as she thought of those twelve missives, still tucked away neatly, carefully, in her pack. She hadn't had the will to throw them away, or set them aflame like her temper had demanded. Instead, she had poured over them constantly, hating him for his vague writings of his location, his well-being and missions, and yet still feeling glad beyond measure that he wasn't dead after all. That first letter had been a lightning bolt. The rest were water on hot rocks, bringing up steam and muddling her thoughts, distracting her, and she couldn't help but ask him both semi-seriously and rhetorically, "You're a selfish arse, you know that, right?"

"I'm aware. I didn't want you to think me dead, but... I also didn't want to join you or the Knights. I decided going alone was the best way to handle things... but that just sounds like an excuse, or an attempt to justify what I did." Warin agreed with her assessment without hesitation, but he knew that was not enough. He hadn't known how many of his letters she had received, as they had been so damned difficult to send without making his survival apparent or attracting unwanted attention, but he was at least glad she had gotten some, if not all of them. It was a weight off of his shoulders, but not much of one, and he shook his head slowly as he continued with a sigh, "But that's not why I called you out to speak with you. To make excuses, or justifications. I know that I was wrong. I know that I'm a selfish bastard."

It went a little way to easing her temper, hearing him flick away his excuses and admit wholeheartedly that her accusations were true, but she still wasn't entirely sure what to make of him. He didn't look regretful, even if he did look apologetic. She doubted that if he had a chance to change things, that he would have made a different choice. It was too much like him, wanting to shoulder the burden alone and shrugging off helping hands, but she wasn't quite interested in that. She had heard the stories. How could she not? All of the knights had spoken at length about his exploits during the past five years like he was some sort of hero, or a victim... but she didn't believe him to be either as she asked him sharply, "Then what is it you want to say?"

"I want to say that I'm sorry." Warin's answer was simple and sincere, and it made Shamir take pause as she took in his expression carefully. The apology was written all over his face, and it softened those sharp navy eyes of his until they were almost liquid with warmth. He had looked at her that same way five years ago, after he'd pulled back from that surprise kiss, and it made her stomach clench with pleasant memory. He shook his head slowly, running a hand errantly down his throat to squeeze his tunic before he continued quietly, "Call me egotistical if you wish, but... Knowing you worried over me... because of me... It's one of my worst regrets. My second being that I never mustered the courage to say something, and instead just acted, as if that would make things more clear somehow. Writing you kept me sane, in those five years, but I don't imagine it was easy on you, receiving those letters. For that... For all of it... I want to apologize to you."

"You _are_ egotistical. My life didn't, and doesn't revolve around what you do." It wasn't entirely true, and she felt that in her bones as she thought of how her heart leapt every time one of those letters had found its way into her hands. Each and every time she had sworn to burn them, to rid herself of his ghost haunting her dreams and her errant thoughts, a letter would always arrive to summon up memories, and make her hesitate at the most critical of times. It was why she still had every single one she had received, and why she had punched him square in the jaw on first sight... Her life didn't revolve about him, but her thoughts certainly did, and she wasn't sure if she hated him for that, either. "I was glad to know you'd survived, but of course your stubborn arse couldn't think to reach out to anyone for help you sorely needed. And yes, I know I'm one to talk, but five years? Five years of going it alone before finally changing your course back to Garreg Mach because of a promise your sister, who we all believed to be dead, made with her students? You'd believe more in that than in the knights? In me?"

She winced as the last two words escaped her lips without thinking, and she quickly bit her lip at the harsh realization of where her anger had truly been coming from. He was quicker to trust children than he was to trust her, and that had stung, and stung deeply. He knew she wasn't truly a knight. She was mercenary, out for the paycheck and never for the religion, and it wasn't as if Rhea was there any longer to keep her bound. She had paid off her debt long ago. She was free to go wherever she liked, if she so chose. Yet she was still here, bound because of his damned letters, and the thought inflamed her temper before she could think better of it, "Every time I thought I was over it, over you, another one of your missives would get slipped into my hands by some scout you found wherever you'd been lurking, and then it'd start all over again. I couldn't leave and go searching for you, it wasn't as if you gave me nearly enough clues as to where you were, and had you wanted me with you, you'd have asked from the outset. I had no idea what you really wanted, only that you were being frustratingly vague. You're lucky I didn't shoot you on sight for that. I'd have shot anyone else."

"You'd have been in the right to. I didn't want you looking for me, and I didn't want you finding me. You're right on those accounts. But, again, that's justifying my behaviour, and I don't plan to do that. I'm only going to admit it was wrong of me to do." Warin took her lashings without another wince or show of pain, as he knew it was his obligation to do. She was still angry. That shine in her violet eyes proved it, but she was right to be. He hadn't been clear, not even in his letters, and he wondered if perhaps he should have been. Yet, that was well out of his hands now. He was not his sister. He could not rewind time. "I was selfish, and I didn't consider your feelings. I made a choice for you, instead of asking what you would do, which does make me an egotistical brat, on top of everything else. I'd say that ends tonight, but you wouldn't have much cause to believe me if I did, would you?"

"What exactly is that supposed to mean? That from now on you intend to be forthright with me?" Shamir couldn't quite help the venom, but she took no pleasure in the way Warin looked away from her when she spoke, either. He was hurting again. Looking like a kicked puppy in sore need of comfort, but she had a little too much pride to allow for that to overwhelm her. She had been hurting, too. And as nice as his apology and self-reflection was... It wasn't enough. Not just yet. "I had assumed that was what you were doing from the beginning. If you're going to be forthright now, I'm interested in how that means things will change."

Warin was silent at her reply, and she wondered if he even had a response to give her. She was surprised then when his brow furrowed and his hands reached up to his neck to unfasten something. His movements were slow and deliberate, and she blinked in confusion as he revealed a long silver chain from underneath his tunic. She didn't have time to see what it was as his hand flicked out in an easy toss, and just as easily her own reached to catch it. His voice was calm, quiet when he finally spoke, "Here. Perhaps that will help you understand."

Shamir went still as her gloved hand opened to reveal the silver band that the chain had been holding for him. She recognized it at once, though she had only seen it once or twice on the missions she had spent alongside him. She had never asked what it was or why he held it, it wasn't her business to do so, but to have it tossed at her so casually... Her spine stiffened, and her mouth abruptly felt very dry. The gems set inside the band glittered faintly in the firelight, and she felt her heart leaping up into her throat, and she had to fight to speak around it as she questioned him, "What... exactly... is this?"

"It belonged to my mother. My father gave it to me, when she passed away when Raine was born. He told me one day to give it to someone that I cared for as much as he cared for her. That's what I'm doing." Warin's explanation came in that same calm, even tone, and he watched with a carefully neutral expression as Shamir looked down to the ring in her hand and then back up at him with surprise widening her eyes, and red beginning to creep in her face. Whatever she had expected, this clearly was not it, and it made him want to smile despite himself before he continued on with that same careful deliberation, "It's yours now, to do what you please with. You don't need to keep it, if you don't want to. Toss it in the nearest lake if you want to. I don't mind. But I hope it makes things clear to you. What I want... and how I feel."

"You truly wouldn't care if I tossed this right here and now?" Despite her words, Shamir felt her fingers closing protectively over the band to clasp it tightly. He didn't say anything lightly, and even more rarely as a jape. She already knew he meant what he said, which only made her want to grip the ring all the closer. She knew very well just how much he loved his family. How deeply he was pained by his mother's loss. To hear him say so casually that she could throw away something so precious as his last reminder of his mother didn't sit well with her at all, and it forced her to ask again for clarity she wasn't sure she really needed, "You'd let me throw it away, that easily? That simply?"

"It's yours now. You can do whatever you want with it." Warin's answer was simple and clear, and from the look of surprise on her face, he was aware she hadn't thought he would say something like that at all. But to him, it _was_ that easy. His father had given it to him to do with as he pleased, and he had made the decision that it belonged in her hands. Nobody else's would do. The past five years had confirmed that for him. The thought of her had been torture, but it had also kept him sane when he had felt the walls closing in and the desperation and the exhaustion creeping into the corners of his vision. No one else had given him what he needed when he needed it more than her, even if he had never asked for it, or expected it. She deserved that band. Whatever she did with it after was not his concern, even if it did mean her throwing it aside. She didn't need to accept it, or everything that came along with it. That didn't matter at all to him. What was more important was that it was in her hands to do as she pleased with it. "I'll admit, it's not something I'm giving away lightly... but that doesn't mean you've an obligation to accept it. I gave it to the person I was asked to give it to. What you do with it is your choice, not mine."

It made that choking ball of anger and hurt shrink, and she had to bite her cheek to resist the urge to smile as she palmed the ring carefully close to her chest. The band was warm, even through the thin leather of her glove, and she wondered errantly how it would fit on her finger. The thought only made her sigh with the realization that she was fighting a losing battle, and had been for the past several years. He had made mistakes, but so had she. How many days had she spent, wondering what would have been different if she had chased after him rather than remain with the knights? She shook her head slowly, idly rubbing her thumb across the edge of the band before she let out a long breath, feeling the weight of his unspoken words hanging heavily in the air, and knowing all they meant and how she felt in answer.

They'd fought together for so long... The words didn't mean much compared to the actions now. He had said all she needed to hear, and done all he'd needed to do. She knew full well how he felt and what he was trying to get across without him putting it to words. She pulled her gloves off, carefully sliding them into her jacket's pockets before slowly, carefully sliding the ring onto her finger. It was a snug fit, made for a different hand than her own, yet it didn't feel foreign at all. The weight was comforting, and it didn't feel out of place on her hand, and her smile broke free despite herself as she mused slowly, "Throwing it away seems like a waste. And it's a good fit, too... I may as well keep it."

Warin blinked, both a little surprised and unsure as he watched Shamir caress his mother's ring with a soft, intimate glint warming her violet eyes. It wasn't as if he was unhappy that she had accepted his gift, but now that she had, he still felt quite a bit at a loss. He understood that it meant she forgave him, at least on some level, and was both accepting and reciprocating, but it left him shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot as he watched her silently. She seemed to notice almost immediately, and her smile turned coy and her eyes playful as she crossed the distance between them with a quick, brisk step.

Unthinkingly, Warin found himself retreating at her unexpected advance until his back hit the smooth stone of the nearby alcove. His pause didn't seem to deter her. If anything, it only made her smile more broadly as she stood toe to toe with him before she reached up and feathered her fingers against his collar. He twitched, surprised at the touch, and then she was pulling at the thick fabric, forcing his head down to her level as she murmured in a musing sort of tone, "If we're going to be forthright... I've thought about that kiss just before the fighting quite a lot these past five years. You owe me interest on that."

He didn't fight her as she pulled him down and caught his lips with hers, though admittedly he wasn't entirely sure what to do when she had him so effectively turned around. The hand on his collar was tight, restraining, stifling, but he allowed for it in return for the warmth of her mouth pressing searchingly on his. She was warm, just as he remembered her being, and as she lifted one arm to curl around his neck to pull him closer... He sighed quietly as he abandoned his tension, and allowed his body to react instinctively to her.

Shamir murmured quietly against his lips as she felt his arms settling across the back of her hips, drawing her closer to his chest as his lips parted for her questing tongue. She felt bold with his ring settled on her finger, and the knowledge made her clutch his tunic all the more firmly while her free hand ran itself lazily, slowly, through those mussed navy curls he had once shared with his sister. It felt surprisingly smooth against her skin, as gentle as the way he was returning her kiss, and she sighed both with longing and pleasure as she curled herself as close as she possibly could manage.

He hadn't given her the time to savour his kiss that first time, and she planned to enjoy every single moment of this now. His grip was solid, and his body strong and lean against hers, and she nipped at his lower lip as she pushed experimentally further into his chest. His quiet little hiss was both a surprise and a thrill, as was the way his hands became strong and gripping on her body rather than clasping. His tongue fought now with hers, eager to search, explore and taste, and she groaned deep in her throat as she leaned all too eagerly into him for more. He was passionate and just as responsive, if a little clumsy, but she didn't mind it as he seized her elbow and turned her about to pin her against the wall.

Still, despite his advantage, Shamir didn't allow him to keep it for long as she broke away from his lips and allowed hers to roam across his cheek and neck. He froze for a moment, startled, and she smirked to herself as those clinging hands of his bit into her hips in a futile attempt to hold her still. She wasn't interested in it, and she sank her fingers into his hair as the others lightly caressed the skin of his collarbone as her lips traced across his scar. She spoke softly, caressing every inch of the ragged mark she could safely reach without tugging too much at his clothes, "You have to have collected a few of these... Are you going to let me look at you properly?"

"L-Look at me properly?" Warin could only echo her words back to her as he struggled to think against her assault on him. She was soft, _too_ soft, and it made focussing incredibly difficult when her lips were caressing every inch of his throat she could reach. She touched him with expertise born of experience, while he had absolutely none to draw on, and it made him both weak and incredibly eager. He fought it all back, however, struggling for some solid grounding, and he glanced down to see her watching him with raised eyebrows and a hint of a playful smile gracing her lips. That only made his knees weaker as he continued with a ragged hitch to his voice as his blood roared in his ears as he asked with a complete lack of grace or thought, "You want me to take off my clothes?"

"In so many words, yes." Shamir was brisk, honest, and amused, but her eyes were keen as she caught the way his hands had yet to pull her back against him again. He was hesitating, though she knew it wasn't a lack of desire that caused him to do so. His panting, that wild look in his eye, as well as the more... honest reaction straining against his trousers was proof enough of that. If he needed a little more incentive, she was more than willing to give it, especially considering that burning in her veins had translated to a painful lack of patience. She wanted him, and badly. Five years of memory and dreams had done enough to erode both her patience and her pride. None of that was a matter to her now. "And I'd prefer to be out of my own, to boot, Warin."

It surprised her then when his hands shot up to grasp her wrists when she reached to pull the sleeves of her jacket down, and the red in his face likewise caught her off guard. He kept eye-contact with her despite how awkward he looked all of a sudden at her blunt honestly, and though he had grabbed her quickly to stop her from revealing more skin, his hand were gentle in their restraints. He shook his head, eyes surprisingly earnest when he explained himself hoarsely but quickly, "Wait a moment... Not... Not here, like this. It should... I mean, _we_ should... It should be somewhere more... intimate."

Shamir blinked, momentarily caught off kilter and unsure of how to respond, but it didn't really matter as she caught the look of embarrassed earnestness written all over his face. It was the first time he had ever looked in such a way, almost boyishly, if she dared to use such a word. The realization of how important this was to him made her quick to discard her own ideas of impatience and demanding him right then and there, and she smirked up at him with a mixture of amusement and affection as she remarked gently, "Somewhere more "intimate", eh? You're a bit of a romantic, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't quite go as far as that..." Warin hesitated as he felt her hands slip from his loosening hold, but he twitched with surprise as her fingers slid down his wrists and then intertwined with his own. It was a gentle hold, comforting, and it made him both warm in the face and deep in his stomach. He swallowed noisily, his fingers tightening thoughtlessly on hers before he replied weakly, "It's just... Things like this... It's meant to be..."

"You _are_ a romantic. That's unexpectedly cute of you." Shamir remarked with a shake of her head, but it was enough to fully cement the change in her mind at his awkward stumbling. If it was so important to him that he'd vocalize it, that only meant she had to pay him the same kindness by giving him what he wanted. How could she deny him? She stood on tiptoe, pressing a gentler kiss to his cheek before she pulled back, eyes glinting with affectionate mischief as she explained briskly, "Two minutes. My quarters. Do _not_ keep me waiting this time."

Warin watched as she turned on her heel and walked away without another word, and that burning in his face now had very little to do with the cold weather. She was bold. Much more bold than he was, and he wondered errantly if that was due to experience, or simple confidence in herself. Either way, it was something he still admired in her, and he had to admit she was growing all the more attractive every time he looked at her. He watched her disappear into the barracks, still looking as confident as ever when she shot him a smile over her shoulder as she went, and for a moment, he hesitated in following after her.

How long had it been, since someone had last touched him kindly? He didn't really remember. It felt like ages. But her touch was addictive, and already his entire body was trembling with the craving of her. It was a new feeling, that burning desire, and he ached all over with it. She was the only person who made him feel like that. Who made him want, with single-minded need both emotionally, and physically. It made the hesitation seem small, and easy enough to toss away as he moved to follow thoughtlessly. It wasn't time to think. He'd had five of years of that. Now was the time to act.

He found his way to her quarters without much work or time, and the door was cracked open for him in invitation. He took it without pausing, and found her sitting on the edge of her cot, counting down idly as she waited for him. Her smile when he slid inside her room was blinding, and she pounced for him the instant the door closed behind him. This time there was no hesitation, or doubt or self-reflection. Just blind desire, impatience, and that desperate need to hold a warm, comforting body against their own.

A hot flurry of movement followed, hands reaching, groping, sliding, and clothes fell to the floor carelessly as they stumbled together back towards the cot. Shamir pulling insistently, and Warin following her lead obediently and eagerly. Neither was quite certain what happened next and in what order, but somehow she ended up finding herself sitting on the edge of the cot, hands buried in his hair as he knelt down between her legs, kissing her thighs as his hands unlaced her boots, with her stockings and smallclothes following in short order. For whatever hesitation he had showed before, now it was replaced with speed and efficiency, and she gasped aloud as he parted her legs effortlessly and his callused fingers slid in deep where she had been aching for him the most for longer than she cared to admit.

"Warin..." Her breathless moan was only proof that he was doing exactly what she wanted from him, and Warin was more then glad to follow both her lead and her signals of pleasure. Her nails pricked at his scalp as she kept a stranglehold on his hair, but he didn't mind the pressure, nor the pain. The way her legs trembled on either side of his head as his tongue swept against the source of her pleasure was enough confirmation that he was performing to her standards... yet it didn't seem enough. He wanted more. More of her taste, her moans, more of everything, and the thought spurred him to further movement without asking for permission.

Shamir bit down onto her knuckles to stop herself from crying out as Warin took a rough hold of her legs and pulled, nearly upending her in the process as he both pulled her closer and tilted her backwards for better access. He all but hooked her legs over his shoulders before returning to attending to her, and she groaned deep in her throat at the sensation of his fingers and tongue assaulting her with merciless precision. He was a quick study, following her every twitch and noise with pinpoint accuracy to improve upon his movements for her, and she arched her back for more as she wondered where he had learned all of this. She had thought him untouched, he certainly acted like he didn't know the first thing about laying with another, yet here he was, making her moan without shame and effort, when it had been quite some time since anyone had ever touched her this way.

Another lifetime, she supposed, but then again, she felt it difficult for that to matter, especially now. His fingers curled, rubbing, stroking, stretching, and she hissed as she arched and twisted in response to his movements. He read her so easily and responded so quickly, just as he always had on and off of the battlefield. It made her gasp and shudder, made her bones melt and her skin burn, and she spoke through her fingers, desperate to keep her voice in check lest she wake her neighbours in the throes of her pleasure, "Are you sure... you've never done this before...? You're too damned... good at this for that...!"

Her words made him smirk despite himself, and he paused for only a brief moment from his work to look up at her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes dazed, and the way her hand pressed against her mouth to stymie her voice only reminded him that she was being forced to do so because of his actions. The thought made his trousers feel even more tight, almost to the point of pain, and he lazily leaned back down to nibble at her thigh as his fingers carefully, slowly, sought to increase her pleasure in a mockery of what was meant to come after, "I've always been a good student... but you're still the only woman I've ever craved like this. Not once have I ever considered sharing a bed with someone before you."

Shamir held her breath in a desperate attempt to stymie another moan as his tongue returned to its play, roughly circling the source of her pleasure as his fingers plunged in deep without regard for her efforts. There wasn't a reply she could make to that, and even if there was, she wasn't in any sort of state to try it. He was right, he was a good student, and she was quickly losing her ability to care about anything but that sweet heat that was building between her thighs. He seemed to sense it, her tension, her breathless expectation for climax, and it only made him rougher, faster, in his drive to bring her there. He was heedless of anything else, doggedly working with single-minded precision, and her ankles locked behind his neck as her fingers scratched at his scalp to spur him on.

Warin felt her tense, heard her breath catch in a long, pained moan that abruptly became a strangled little cry as her legs locked as her orgasm roared over her body with brutal strength. It made her tremble and gasp and buck, and her vision turned white as the sound of her heart racing in her ears blocked out the world entirely from the force of it. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this good, felt so outrageously hot and free and complete, and she nearly doubled over in her desperation to pull him closer, to feel him in her arms as she shook wildly with those lazy white-hot sparks of pleasure in the aftermath.

He turned gentle, fingers moving slowly along with her every twitch and spasm, and his tongue swirled both inside and out, draining her dry as she moaned his name and clutched at him as if he would disappear if she let go for even a moment. Her hands pulled insistently at his hair, jerking him up from his work after a few moments of the torture, and he looked up to see her staring down at him, need and desire clouding her eyes as she pulled again to force him up off of his knees and onto the bed with her. He came willingly, allowing for her weak, trembling hands to guide him on top of her, and her arms wrapped around his neck as she pulled him close, breath catching at the weight of his body resting on top of her own before she whispered huskily into his ear, "I want you... Take me properly this time... I can't wait any longer, Warin."

Warin's reply was swallowed by a groan as her hips lifted off of the bed, grinding against his erect centre with a sniper's precise movement and aim, and he grit his teeth together as he wondered how in the world she managed to do that when she looked so spent already. But she was recovering just as quickly as he had sent her over the edge, and the proof of that was in her coy, alluring smirk, and one leg effortlessly wound itself about his hips as she arched to repeat that frustratingly sweet movement of their cores pressing against each other before she continued in a silken murmur, "That's it... You don't want to wait any longer, either, do you? Did you dream of me these past five years? I did for you, you know. And so far, reality has been _so_ much better. I want to know exactly how good the real you feels against and inside of me. Come on... Don't make me beg."

It was his turn to hold his breath as her fingers brushed lovingly down his chest, her words making his throat tight and the coarse fabric of his trousers even tighter. Her hand slid between their thighs effortlessly, pressing tauntingly against the proof of his arousal, and unbidden his hips jerked forward to grind against her palm in a desperate search for more friction. He felt her smiling against his throat, obviously pleased by his automatic and shameless reaction to her touch, and she took her sweet time experimenting with pressure as her mouth roamed along the rapid beating of his pulse.

"Sh-Shamir... Gods..." Warin hissed as his eyes tightly closed, hips rocking without thought or care as that sly hand of hers slid past the hem of his trousers to touch him directly. The warmth of her skin on his almost undid him then and there, and he froze as he fought the pleasure with desperation. He wouldn't let her have her satisfaction that easily, not when he knew there was still so much more he wanted from her and vice versa, but his body was throbbing with a wild sort of want he didn't know how to properly restrain. He had been honest that she was the first person he'd ever allowed to touch him and touch in return, but that only made him all the more wanting to do it well, and do it right.

"At least your body is honest... That's fine. I'll get my answers out of you soon enough if you won't tell me." Shamir promised with deadly sincerity, and her smile was both coy and dangerous as her free hand sought the hem of his tunic and pulled while the other wrapped about the length of him to stroke him experimentally. His shuddering gasp was reward enough of its own, and she took full advantage of those shaking arms of his to push him off of her and onto his back so she could take control now. He didn't fight her, either too swept up in the pleasure or more than willing to give her what she wanted when she demanded it, and she rewarded him with a long, wicked lick along the length of his scar on his throat in answer.

Warin shuddered, hands grasping at the sheets underneath him as she pulled his shirt up deftly with her free hand while her other stroked and squeezed at him with playful sadism. She was familiarizing herself with him quickly, listening to his noises and watching his body's reactions to her touch to know exactly where and how to touch him to get the best reactions, and he was helpless to stop her as his shirt joined the rest of the clothing that had littered her floor. He felt her pause, and he looked up to take in her suddenly narrowed eyes as they flickered across his chest for the first time.

The scar on his throat extended down underneath the neckline of his shirt, down past his collarbone before it disappeared into a thin line somewhere not too far from his heart. It was a long and wicked wound, likely made with a sword or lance, but it was hardly the only one to mar his tanned skin. His torso was a masterpiece of muscle and scarring, from magical burns that had made their way past his chainmail to small, triangular marks of arrowheads finding their targets in his flesh. It was too much to take in all at once, to put to count as she surveyed him with a seasoned eye of a mercenary, and she felt her heart ache as she reached to caress the nearest scar, a broad axe-wound that had nicked the left side of his stomach, "You really have been fighting for your life these past five years... Look at you... You're an absolute mess."

The pain in her voice made his eyes narrow in return, and he reached for her cheek without thinking as she continued to stare down at him with that piercing, aching look in her eyes. She twitched as his fingers brushed her skin, and it took a moment before she could tear her eyes away from his scarred patchwork of a torso and back to his face, and he pulled at her gently, carefully, to urge her to lay back down against him. She came slowly, hesitantly, but she came all the same for him, and he brushed his fingers tenderly through her dark hair as he muttered against her ear reassuringly, "I'm still alive."

"You go nowhere without me from today on. Absolutely nowhere." Shamir's voice was harsh and cool, demanding and brooking no argument, and Warin wasn't sure whether he even could make a case for himself as she straddled him in one smooth movement. She grasped roughly at his shoulders, jerking him upright before her hands pulled at his trousers, loosening his belt and pulling them roughly down. She grasped his face then, holding his eyes with hers as they spat violet fire, and she pressed her body as close as it could come without taking him inside of herself when she growled, "Do you understand me? No more letters. No more hiding away. No more making decisions on your own. You stay beside me from now on. You love me here, _with_ me, and not from a distance. If you can't swear to that, then this ends here, right now. I won't go losing you to your own pigheadedness. I can't do it twice, damn you."

Warin wasn't sure if her fervency or her anger surprised him more, but he did know that it made him ache in a way none of his scars ever could manage. His arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling her closer for a firm, comforting embrace, and he felt her tense only for a moment before she allowed herself to accept it. She nuzzled his neck, burrowing in deeply into his hold until there simply was no way for her to get closer, and he spoke slowly, quietly into her hair as his arms squeezed in answer, "I can promise to never go anywhere without you. I can promise to do my damnedest to get out of this war alive. But I won't do it unless you give me that same promise. Vows, or marriage... I can't give you that, not until all of it's over, but anything else you demand of me, you can have. All of me is already yours anyway. I love you."

Shamir felt herself let out a shaky breath at those huskily whispered words, and her chest tightened until it became hard to breathe. At his core he was a mercenary, just as she was, and they both knew the risks they were taking by daring to become intimate in the most dangerous of times. No tomorrow was ever guaranteed, especially in wartime, and that came double for those who made their livelihoods in battle. He couldn't promise her a future, not in good conscience, and she couldn't accept such a promise even if he was willing to laugh and disregard the odds that were tilted so far against them. He knew better. So did she. But he could give her everything else, and he was happy to do so. She had thought she knew that already, but to hear him say the words... It made her shake her head and wish that such cold pragmatism didn't have to be the code they followed.

Strong, unyielding hands pushed him down suddenly, but Warin didn't object or fight at her decision to put him solidly on his back. He stared up at her wordlessly, forcing his eyes not to linger on her lush curves, or those pert, full breasts his hands were aching to grasp again. He fixed his gaze on her face, taking in the torn emotions and the desire running rampant behind them all, and she braced her hands on his chest, keeping him firmly pinned down and refusing to let him even think about trying to rise. She shook her head when she saw the questioning look rising in his eyes, and she spoke firmly, deliberately as she shifted her hips, reminding him of what they had put unthinkingly on pause, "Enough talk. I want you. Now. You can whisper all the sweet nothings you want afterwards."

"Whatever you say." Warin knew to pick his battles, and he was well aware it was long past time trying to fight with her. He had no desire to anyway. She was still stronger and fiercer than he was, and he doubted that was about to change. She could have whatever she wanted of him. He'd give it to her gladly. She deserved it, and more for all she had already put up with from him. If it went even a tiny ways into helping her forgive him, helping her feel better, than it was all the more reason for him to comply with her wishes, regardless of what they were. "I'm yours, Shamir."

"I'll be damned if you ever belong to anyone else after I'm through with you..." Shamir ground out between gritted teeth as she reached between them again to stroke him, and his immediate response of hissing and arching his back only proved that despite the pause, his body was still all too ready for hers. It made her want to smile despite the initial flare of jealousy and sympathy, and she wondered when she had become the possessive sort. Perhaps his earnestness was the source. Saying so bluntly she was the first and only woman to stir him... It almost, _almost_ made her regret that she could not give him the same, but those years before him had been precious to her in their own ways. She could not return to how she was before him... but everything now, and in the future, were his for the taking. That would have to be enough. And she already knew, as his hips jerked against her palm and her name came hot and husky on his tongue, that he would never be selfish enough to demand more, even if he wanted to.

She was slow and deliberate with him, easing herself down to take him in deep where she ached most for him, and she couldn't suppress a low, satisfied moan from escaping her lips as he fought to stay still underneath her direction. His hands reached instinctively to grasp her hips, holding her steady, and she bit her lower lip as she took a moment to savour the feeling of him inside of her. His hands were trembling from the effort he was putting in to keep himself still, and it made her laugh breathlessly as she moved experimentally, earning a surprised hiss, followed by a low, almost wounded-sounding groan. His eyes were tightly closed, jaw taut and body tense, and she licked her lips before leaning down across his chest to whisper into his ear, "Move with me."

Warin was eager to obey at her demand, sitting up underneath her as his hips surged forwards without his consent. Her responding moan as she grasped at his shoulders to anchor herself to him was all he needed to know his instincts would serve him well from here on out, and he followed their direction without hesitation. She was hot and pliant in his hands, bending with his every movement and seeking more of him like he would disappear should her hands leave him for even a moment. It was an unnecessary worry. He had no plans to leave her again... Especially when they were like this.

Hot, heavy kisses muffled their noises as they moved together with single-minded desperation and want, and Shamir felt her nails rake across his back as he moved hard and fast from below for her. Every movement she made was met with one of his own as he quickly learned how to respond to her desires and wants, and his grip on her waist was almost tight enough to be bruising as he began to move her with him for a chance to go deeper and harder. It made her groan deep in her throat at his aggression, his desire for her, and she felt her nails sinking into his shoulders as she clung to him for some semblance of steadiness. He was too fast on his feet for her to keep up with, but she didn't dislike it. It only made her burn more for him and what he could do to her, and she had no intentions of letting him go for the rest of the night.

His mouth travelled south along her neck, leaving marks she'd have difficulty covering up in the morning, but Shamir found it increasingly difficult to care about such paltry consequences. Those rough, scarred hands of his were roaming her body, familiarizing themselves with her every last inch as his hips continued that sharp, harsh pacing, and her own were not remiss in returning the favour. She wanted to feel all of him, too, to map out every single scar with her fingers and burn the sensation of his body against and inside of hers until it was all she knew in the heat of the moment. Here, in her bed and behind the locked door, no one was there to see or to judge, and the outside world was a thing of fiction. Here, in his arms and in that moment, they were the only two creatures in the entirety of the world.

"Gods... I can't..." Warin's voice came ragged and broken against her ear, his movements more ragged and desperate, and she smiled into his hair as his fingers bit into her waist to pull her harder into his movements. He was frantic, searching for that release that was dangling just beyond his grasp, and she moved eagerly with him to help him find it. That desperate, hoarse note in his voice, made solely because of her suffused her with a rich sort of pride and pleasure, only further proving she had become possessive of him without her knowing. Her name echoed in her room from his panting lips, shameless and pleasured and yet still wanting more as his teeth scored her shoulder when he tried to muffle himself with the last bit of sense he had left.

It was more than enough for both of them as his hips bucked without restraint, and her nails sank in deep enough into his skin to draw blood as she bit her lip to stop herself from crying out from the force of her orgasm. Her body shook wildly in his arms, grinding against his every wild, jagged thrust as he lost himself to those same white-hot sparks of pleasure, and his climax followed her own with a long, drawn-out snarl of her name that reverberated deep into her chest and made her legs lock all the more fiercely about his hips in thoughtless abandon.

It seemed to take forever for the trembling to subside and for their shaking hands to release one another, and Shamir muffled a groan as she rolled weakly off of him and into the sheets of her cot. She lay on her back, shivering and panting for breath as those lazy sparks of pleasure from the aftershocks made her limbs twitch as she heard Warin collapsing beside her with similar satisfied exhaustion. She was content to close her eyes and ride out the waves, to enjoy every moment of the lingering heat and electricity as her hand grasped blindly for his, but the moment didn't last as that rough, ragged breathing next to her didn't subside as she had expected it to as the seconds lazily ticked by into minutes.

Instead, it grew worse. Choking, gasping, and abruptly pulling her out of her dazed, tired state and back to attention as she realized that her satisfaction wasn't being shared whatsoever. She sat up in one smooth movement as her eyes flew open to see Warin on his side, one hand grasping at his chest as if his heart was somehow trying to burst its way past his ribs and he was desperately trying to keep it inside of his body somehow. His face had paled and his eyes were wide with panic, and each breath he took was a desperate, gasping gulp of air as if he was drowning. His body was no longer trembling but shaking, and he gripped blindly at the sheets, his spine stiff and muscles tense and bulging as he fought against the adrenaline and tried in vain to somehow steady himself.

Instinct took over as she recognized the signs of unhinged fear and panic, and Shamir was quick to gather the shaking man into her arms and hold him close as his breathing worsened into choking coughs. She had seen it before on the battlefield, too many a time in all of her years of fighting and war. It wasn't an unnatural sight to her, though she had never expected Warin of all people to devolve into it, especially after sharing something so intimate. Yet, that didn't matter as she curled her arms about his neck to cradle him to her chest, reacting on sheer instinct as she whispered into his hair as she felt his tense body and ragged breath on her skin, "Breathe... It's all right... Just breathe, Warin..."

It seemed to take a lifetime, a painful, cold, tense lifetime as Warin's body slowly began to relax and his lungs found the ability to take in air properly again. He didn't move, didn't lift his head or even dare to let go of the balled wad of sheets in his white-knuckled fist as Shamir's hand ran soothingly, tenderly through his sweat-slicked hair as she continued to hold him close. His heart was hammering wildly in his throat, still reacting to that completely insane surge of terror that had taken a brutal hold of him when he had found himself unable to breathe properly, and he felt the fear fading to be replaced with a cold stone of shame settling hard in his stomach instead.

"Relax." Shamir's voice came quiet and soft somewhere from above him as she felt his tension returning even as his breathing settled, but for the life of him he couldn't force his head up to look at her. He had no idea what had happened. One moment had been nothing but bliss, filling his head with white noise and pleasure as he succumbed to his climax, and then the next had been a blind panic that he couldn't rationalize no matter how hard he tried. It had been hard to breathe, to reign himself back in once the pleasure had ebbed away, and then his body had kicked in the adrenaline, as if he was on the battlefield again and not in her room, in her bed, and in her arms.

His body felt overwhelmingly hot, yet his extremities were frozen, and still Warin's mind spun wildly with both confusion and anger. What had happened? He didn't understand it. He knew full well where he was and what he had been doing, and yet for some brief, insane moment he had seen blood, felt hard steel sliding into skin, and had lost complete track of everything in an instant. It made no sense. He had never felt that before, and it left him both reeling with exhaustion and confusion, as well as an overwhelming sense of shame. Weakly he tried to push himself out of the warm, soft arms cradling him, but they tightened at once at his movement and refused to let him rise. He turned his head away from her, eyes lowered and voice almost hoarse as he tried to speak, "L-Let go... It's fine..."

"You're as bad a liar as your sister is. Stop fighting. Just relax." Shamir's hold tightened warningly as he struggled against her for another moment, but she admitted she felt no satisfaction when he finally gave up and leaned into her embrace tiredly. It was only exhaustion that made him cede to her and not better sense, and she felt her chest aching as she understood exactly what it was he had just experienced, and why. Her hand was gentle as it continued to comb through his hair as she cradled him close, and she shook her head before she sighed and asked in a softer, more intimate voice, "When was the last time you had a proper chance to rest?"

Warin was silent as he felt her question pierce through his defences and leave him weak and exhausted in her arms. She leaned backwards, taking him with her as she went, and he made no effort to fight as he lay on her chest and listened to the sound of her heart beating. It was comforting, her warmth and that gentle, purring reminder of her being alive, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek for a long moment before he could answer her with complete honesty. It made him ache, in more ways than one, but he owed her the truth even if he didn't want to speak it, let alone acknowledge it. He closed his eyes, pressing his face against her shoulder as he answered in a quiet, hoarse mutter, "Not since the day my father died."

Though she had expected the answer, it still surprised the sniper with the sudden lance of hurt that broke her heart as she held Warin just a little tighter in response. It made sense. For almost five years and a handful of moons, he had been fighting without end, worrying constantly for his life or for his sister's, and never once having a chance to breathe. His body was on the verge of collapse, and his mind was faring no better. It made sense that at the first sign of safety, of actual complete calm and contentment, that everything he had been bottling up in order to continue to survive had come flooding out all at once. She fought not to tighten her hold, to not injure his pride any further by looking as if she was coddling him, but it was impossible to not feel protective or demanding as she muttered quietly into his hair, "That changes tonight, along with everything else, then."

"What?"

"You, resting properly. That starts tonight, along with everything else." Shamir repeated herself curtly, and she almost appreciated the confused look in his eyes as he looked at her in bemusement. She almost didn't mind it, as it meant he wasn't about to argue, but she still was aching from the effort of holding her arms still rather than curling up protectively about him. She wondered if he even was aware of what it meant, breaking down only with her there to witness it, after five entire years of holding steady, but she quickly decided it didn't matter if he didn't know. She did, which meant she could take action on it, and she intended to do so immediately. "Move your things here. You can start sleeping in my quarters."

Warin blinked several times, unsure if he had heard her properly, but he knew better than to question her when she spoke so brusquely, even if it was about such a topic. He had been doing little more than blundering after her lead, but she hadn't seemed disappointed with it. If anything, she seemed happy, and she still was wearing his mother's ring on her hand. That alone told him it was foolish to second-guess anything she said, but he couldn't help but smile wryly at the knowledge that her idea of going all in truly meant tossing everything in without a single regard of anything else. He reached idly for her hand as she kept her arms wrapped snugly about his shoulders, and he ran a careful finger over her own to feel the gemstones on the warm band she was sporting before he asked quietly, "You want me to just move in with you, then?"

"I said I intended to collect on the interest you owed me. I may as well start now." Shamir answered with a shrug, and she watched as he offered a small, crooked smile at her in answer. He had hesitated, but it hadn't been for long. He was inexperienced, that much was true, but he was also earnest. He meant everything he said and did. He couldn't promise her marriage, and she would not ask for it, but this much wasn't too much right now. At least, she didn't believe it was, after so long, and after what they'd shared. There was no reason in delaying anything, when their next day was always a gamble. She saw no point in it, if he was agreeable to the idea, at least. "Unless you'd rather move more slowly?"

"No... I've moved slowly enough, I think..." Warin shook his head at her willingness to give him a chance to escape if he wanted it, and he reached to stroke her cheek as she watched him with those sharp, searching eyes that missed nothing every time they looked at him. He appreciated the generosity, but it was unneeded. He had already given her everything he had to give... Ceding to her request to simply share her bed was nothing in comparison. And as weak as he still felt, her arms were gentle and gave him comfort he wouldn't ever ask for, but she was always so willing to give. It made him sigh, and he reached down as best as his still faintly trembling hand could manage to find a hold of the blankets to bring up to drape across their bodies before he continued quietly, "I want to be with you... Just like this, for as long as you'll let me. I've wasted enough time already."

Shamir was quiet as she felt him nuzzle her shoulder, his hand moving gently down her arm as he took in a deep breath and then let it out as his body began to relax again. He moved slightly to take his weight from her without moving from her grasp, careful to cover her with the blankets as he moved, and she bit the inside of her cheek to hide her smile at his mindfulness. Everything he did was automatic despite it being new, his instincts to care and protect showing through despite the years of self-preservation that had made him so guarded and so vulnerable. Five years had gone by, and he was scarred and battered... but he was still the same man who had pushed her into the alcove to steal a kiss, hiding her away from the world at large in case she rejected him and wanted no one to know what he'd done.

Her eyes flickered to her pack that was nestled in the corner of her room, still carrying every single one of the letters she had received from him, and she smiled slightly as she mused over his choice of words as she lay curled up next to him, feeling his arm draped over her middle as he nuzzled her shoulder again gently. It had been a hard five years, but now... Considering it wasted time almost seemed offensive. It was true, she wished it could be changed still, that he hadn't made the choices he had, and she had changed her own, but... It had led them here, all the same. Could she really call that wasted time? She sighed as she pulled at his shoulder, sliding herself closer to nestle into his chest as she ducked her head under his chin before murmuring into his neck, "Calling it a "waste" seems too strong a word."

Warin didn't answer right away as he felt her deliberately snuggle all the closer into his arms until she could not possibly get more snug, and his arms wrapped thoughtlessly about her to hold her tight in place. She slid her legs through his, entwining their bodies all the more underneath the covers, and reminding him just how good it felt to have a warm, soft body pressed against his own. She was safe. She was contentment. And he felt his chest aching with that painful wonder that hadn't stopped plaguing him for the better part of six years since he'd first realized how much he loved her. It was a bittersweet pain, just as his father had always said it would be, and he cherished it as he kissed the top of her head and replied quietly, softly, "If you say so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Heheh, I meant it when I said I'd be leaping right for that M rating. I'm pretty bad at that, and I am sorry, but it'd just been bottled up for so long, and I wanted to write it so bad..! And yet, this one took awhile for me to get around to finalizing. Warin was being exceptionally difficult, as he always is, but it was very important to me to make sure I got everything I wanted to written down concerning where he was, both physically and mentally after his five years in self-imposed isolation. That kind of thing does not do good things to your psyche, and it is intentional that Warin is Dimitri's foil in that. Both in their experiences, and how they react with said experiences. That, of course, is not to say that one is better than the other, because that's not how it works. You can't compare pain and suffering on a scale. Everybody feels it differently, and reacts to it differently. But they are meant to represent two sides to grief and pain and isolation, and I hope I managed to convey that well enough despite the difficulties.
> 
> There is so much more to follow, and I do apologize for the long break in between works. My fiance came down for a visit, and Christmas is coming, and she brought Pokemon Sword and Shield with her. We spent the entirety of her time playing and learning the new game, and we had a lot of fun (as well as did a lot of cursing and ranting) about it. But here's not the place to talk about Dexit and the majority of things the new games will inevitably bring up. I'm already writing about a contentious game. No need for two fandoms to come after my neck with pitchforks!
> 
> Also, just as a notice, there will be more smuts in this collection, and not all of them will be around the two main pairings of Raine/Dimitri and Warin/Shamir. Mind, they likely will not be written out in as much detail and more alluded to or written in a fade-to-black kind of style, but there certainly will be mentions of other couples and their goings-on in the monastery! Because you cannot tell me with a straight face that some of the students are totally in each other's beds after a long five years of war. I won't believe it, even if canon says marriage always took place after everything was said and done. Because sure, marriage happened after, but I'm damn certain they didn't all wait in terms of bedroom activities! XD
> 
> Anywhosit, as always, I am so happy to have had your attention this far, and I hope you enjoyed what you read as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please drop me a review should you feel the need, and I hope to see you again in the next chapter! Please have a good one!
> 
> Mood: Slightly Tired.
> 
> Listening To: "Chandelier" - Sia
> 
> ~ Sky


	4. Broken Roads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Rating: Friendship, Conflict, Ideals, Angst. (T)
> 
> Characters: Raine, Dorothea, Dimitri.
> 
> Summary: The last thing Raine had expected after their first brush with Imperial forces was to see a former Black Eagle come without fanfare into the walls of Garreg Mach, especially after five years on the run, but the war had proved that the divides had run deeper than she had initially thought. Who was she to turn away a plea for help, regardless of where it came from? The charity however would prove divisive, but that, too, was something she was quickly learning to handle, regardless of how much it pained her to do so. She was the commander now... and commanding came with conflict more often than it came with peace.

**Pegasus Moon**

**Garreg Mach Gardens**

**Afternoon**

"Here. It isn't much, but you've come all this way... I hope I remembered the right flavour." Raine spoke quietly, politely, as she set down the still-steaming kettle on the tabletop, avoiding the steam as she did so before she poured the water into the two waiting cups in front of her. She never had gotten used to the concept of making a good tea, but good-manners had demanded that she at least try her hand for her guest. She knew it had to look foolish, especially considering the fact that their few resources meant such trivial things like tea leaves were practically a luxury at the moment, but she was determined to not show weakness, or that she and her small band were lacking in any sort of capacity. Pragmatism and pride demanded it, even if she was well aware that the woman sitting in front of her would probably be the last person in the whole of Garreg Mach to begin to scold her for it despite the fact that she surely had noticed it on her way there.

"Don't worry so much, Professor. You've been more than hospitable, especially considering the circumstances. Tea isn't important." Dorothea shook her head and tried to hide a little laugh as she accepted Raine's clumsy attempts at hospitality, but she took the tea gratefully anyway to warm her hands as the former professor of the Blue Lions took a seat across from her after pouring her own cup of tea. The smell of the familiar leaves was comforting and relaxing after such a long stint of travel, especially considering how long she had gone without such small comforts, and she knew it showed as she leaned back in her seat to add with a hint of a playful smile, "But I'm grateful all the same for it... It's been ages."

"I imagine... You left the Empire only a year into the war, didn't you? These past handful of years must have been difficult for you, more than most." Raine mused as she turned her gaze away from Dorothea and to the sound of laughing children that was echoing throughout the gardens just to her left. She still was having difficulty grasping what she was seeing and what she had been told when Dorothea had arrived, unannounced and unexpected just a handful of days after Garreg Mach's brush with the first of the Empire's forces. Word had spread too quickly for her liking of their doings there, and they had fully expected that sooner rather than later they would be fighting for their lives once again at the foot of the monastery, but clever tactics, years of fighting, and righteous anger had left them victorious, even if the aftermath had left a sour, ugly taste in their mouths.

Raine shuddered reflexively. She hadn't wanted it, hadn't wished for it, but there had been little choice left to her when she had realized with a drop in her stomach that the enemy commander would suffer if she permitted Dimitri to continue with his insane idea of enacting justice on his opponent. A quick, merciful death had been all she could do for the poor, pleading man at Dimitri's feet, and she could only hope that constant vigilance, and curt, unyielding commands would keep the prince of Faerghus at a heel from now on. The war already was going to leave behind a pile of corpses for the living to contend with once it was over, and Raine had no intention of allowing torture to be added to the long list of crimes that would be committed in tearing down Edelgard's empire. Not when she was the one put in charge of seeing it to fruition, regardless of what Dimitri wanted.

It had made her hesitant, then, when Dorothea had come calling shortly after the remains of the battle had been swept away, asking for her by name, and Raine had been quick to leave her present duties to go and meet her in person without letting anyone else know of the circumstances. It was risky for her to be here uninvited and unexpected, especially considering Dimitri's mental state, but she wasn't about to turn the former Black Eagle away on something as foolish as that. The monastery needed every helping hand it could possibly get, and even if Dorothea was not there to offer aid, it was still not in her to just leave the singer in the cold without hearing her case, if she had one to make.

And it had been with surprise that Raine had realized she indeed had a case to make, as the singer had not returned to Garreg Mach alone. Following her like a flock of ducklings had been a group of almost half a dozen young children, and Raine had only been able to stare, mouth partially agape at the sight of Dorothea herding them along with a maternal smile and a kind, if firm, look in her eye as she told them to shush and allow for the adults to speak. She had been taking in orphans ever since her flight from the Empire a year into the war, and had settled relatively close to her former academy before she had heard whispers of an occupying force taking up arms in the once-abandoned monastery. She had known at once what it meant and what was happening, and she had dropped everything to leave the small hamlet she had settled in to see it for herself and with her wards to request their aid in sheltering those she was having difficulty caring for on her own after so many years.

After a few minutes of shock at the revelation, Raine had moved quickly to solve the problem that had been so unceremoniously tossed upon her shoulders. She was only glad that the word of the Kingdom's forces rallying in Garreg Mach had brought back more than those searching for help, as many of the displaced priests and nuns from the initial invasion had come rushing back to attend to the place of worship and provide much-needed aid for the rebellion in Rhea's name. One of those nuns was now shepherding Dorothea's children with all of the patience of a saint, allowing now for Raine and Dorothea to sit in relative quiet and privacy to speak at length. They were a rowdy bunch, running here and there all over the gardens, but their laughter was a balm to all who were present to hear it, and it was obvious in everyone's smiles that the sight of such innocence after such a gruesome battle only the week before was exactly what they had needed in their lives.

Dorothea could see this clearly as she watched Raine watching her wards with a distant, numb sort of look in her seafoam-coloured eyes, and it made her wince with both guilt and sympathy. She hadn't expected to enter into her old place of learning to find the woman everyone had thought dead after the invasion of Garreg Mach, but the whispers that had reached even her small, out-of-the-way haven had been unmistakable. The professor had somehow survived all these years, and was now spearheading a rebellion against the Empire, and what more, had the future king of Faerghus with her. She was a walking miracle even if she looked more tired and worn than a shining example of the goddess' will as she had been branded, and it made her smile wanly as she corrected Raine idly, "Leaving the Empire wasn't difficult, really... It was what came after that proved difficult. Finding a way to be useful... To do _something_ amidst all the fighting that wasn't fighting, but could still be of some good _... Th_ _at_ was difficult."

"Taking in displaced children is certainly one way to do good, Dorothea. I wouldn't discount your efforts simply because you aren't fighting." Raine sharply turned her attention back to Dorothea, hearing her wariness, her guilt, without much need to look in further. It was obvious that the young woman in front of her was scarred and worn by the war, even if she had hung up her sword and fled the conflict rather than try to stay and fight. She had seen enough damage in the initial invasion and immediately afterwards to know she was no soldier, and to try and be one would only destroy her if she chose such a route. She had not lasted a year in the charade before it had become too much, but Raine was not about to judge her for that. Not at all. "Rather, I'd say it's a much more honourable pursuit... What you do will have more impact than any swinging of a sword ever will. Those children of yours will remember you and your kindness... That will last much longer than a war will."

Dorothea smiled, but she admitted that the words rung rather hallow even if she knew the praise was genuine. It was not in Raine's way to speak falsehoods just to soothe a damaged ego, and she was a poor liar anyway, but the singer admitted it just did not sit well with her. She did not regret her actions, nor did she regret her choices, but yet she still had this lingering feeling of doubt and anxiety, especially when she had realized she simply could not do it all alone. It had been desperation that had drove her to Garreg Mach's doors with her children, and she knew that she could do nothing for the charity she would be given, if it was to be given at all. She was not a soldier. She never had been. The truth of it was clear after she had seen what five years of war had done to the country and its people, and it made her sick to know all she could do was try to heal wounds that simply were beyond her skill, but needed attention nonetheless.

Children had always been a weakness of hers, especially considering her own harsh upbringing, and arriving at the idea of helping orphans left behind by the fighting had been easy once she had realized what other scars the war was leaving in its raging wake. But the task was more daunting than she had initially assumed it would be, and she was now painfully aware she was not up to the task. Not on her own. If she had been, she never would have come to Garreg Mach to beg for aid, and face the war again from the very base of the rebellion itself.

Dorothea let out a tired sigh, and she shook her head as she mused with a bittersweet little smile playing across her face as she met Raine's stare head-on and without flinching, "You're kind to say so, Professor, but I still feel like an abject coward... I don't regret my choice to leave the Empire, to leave the fighting behind, but... Everything I've done thus far... It hasn't amounted to much, in reality. I'm struggling to provide for those I've taken in already, and there are so many more children out there that are in desperate need of help... I came here to ask for aid, when I should be capable of doing it by myself. And as much as I'm glad to know that you're here and well, and fighting to end this madness... This is the last place I want to be with these children."

"I understand that... but I won't have you putting yourself in more danger by trying to scrape by alone. You and yours are welcome here, for as long as needed, until you can get back on your feet. It's what the monastery was built for, and it's what it must remember, even now." Raine dismissed Dorothea's concerns even as she understood just how deeply they ran, and she straightened her spine as she caught the look of shock that passed abruptly through the singer's eyes. It was obviously not the answer she had expected when she had explained her plight, but Raine didn't mind that. There were more important factors at play, and she knew that better than anyone as she continued firmly, "I won't hear you argue about it, either, Dorothea. As much as you might hesitate at the idea, coming here is much better than trying to go it alone. They need safety and shelter. Garreg Mach can provide that. It may not be ideal, but it's better than any other option at the moment. The monastery was meant to be home to those in need... It must remain that way, if we're to remember what we're fighting for in the first place. Otherwise, what's the damned point?"

"Professor..." Dorothea wasn't entirely sure if she was touched, alarmed, or actually afraid as she heard Raine speak so simply of solving her problems by taking in the children under her wing without so much as a moment to consider it at length. It was a sweet gesture, and far more than Dorothea had ever expected, but she knew charity almost never came without attachments. She knew that the monastery was struggling for soldiers and resources. A simple glance about had told her that. Her wards would be used as a bargaining chip, and she had had more than enough of bloodshed. She couldn't accept the offer, no matter how good it sounded to her ears. It would be impossible to do so, and she explained that painfully as her hands began to tremble about the frail china cup, "I-I can't just accept that so easily... And you need to know that even if you do take in these children, I-"

"I don't expect you to fight, Dorothea. You aren't about to be called to take up a sword, simply because you're here. I would never ask that of you." Raine cut in smoothly, anticipating the argument and not willing to wait for Dorothea to give voice to her concerns so she could soothe her fears. It made sense. The singer was wise, and jaded. She knew the world worked via exchanges of currency, and she had likely come to Garreg Mach fully expecting that any offer of charity she would be given would come with strings. But Raine didn't care for such logic, nor would she allow for the assumption to stand. She had been gifted the power of leadership, and she would not wield it unfairly, or cruelly. "Stay and mind your children, just as you would have if you had never come here. That's more than fine by me. If you do feel compelled to help somehow, then I know Professor Manuela could always use another pair of hands in the infirmary, but even that I wouldn't demand of you. You came here for looking for help. I'll give it. It should be that simple, and I will _make_ it that simple for you."

"You really don't want me fighting?" Dorothea looked closely at the woman in front of her, struggling to find the logic even though she was desperate to grasp onto it with both hands all the same. It played in her favour, just as she had wished beyond hope that it would, but even she knew she could not just take it without question. She had seen the state of the monastery. She knew full well just how dire the rebellion's situation was, despite the professor's attempts to make it appear otherwise. She had grown up on the streets of Enbarr, and she knew desperation and hopelessness when she saw it. It was unmistakable. They needed men, supplies, morale... and yet there Raine was, turning away a potential soldier, without even a second thought. If she hadn't been the one to be turned away, she would have called it folly. It was that and that alone that made her question her aloud, despite knowing it was not truly something she could do, "Even though you know I can?"

"You were a student here once, and you're probably better than half of the soldiers we've mustered, but that doesn't mean anything when your wants are concerned. You don't want to fight. Therefore, you shouldn't. If you feel you're doing more good by focussing on giving to these children than swinging a sword or casting magic, then by all means, continue to do what you're doing." Raine's answer came firmly as she saw the doubt in Dorothea's eyes, but she felt no offence for the second-guessing. Dorothea was a keen woman despite her looks and her attitude, and she was skilled even if her stomach was not the sort for warfare. Raine would not discount those facts, but they seemed to matter little against what she knew, and what she had been told. Her decision was final, even if Dorothea would argue, and she made that perfectly clear as she continued seriously, "Forcing you away from that and to the battlefield makes me no better than Edelgard. And yes, I am aware that she's been involuntarily conscripting soldiers to her cause. I may be new to all of this, but I'm learning as quickly as I can about this entire mess. I won't make anyone fight against their will. Not even you."

Dorothea hesitated in replying, watching that firm glint in those familiar seafoam-coloured eyes that told her of a lifetime of stubbornness that no sweet words would ever be able to overwhelm. She meant everything she said, and she would stand by it to the death. Dorothea knew that as much as she knew she needed to breathe to survive. Yet... She couldn't simply accept what was being given without further question. It felt wrong, especially with all she had seen and what she knew the leader of the rebellion was turning down, and doing so without bothering to inform her allies. She couldn't hold Raine's stare, feeling both an equal amounts of relief and shame, and instead could only stare into the depths of her tea as her fingers wrapped a little more tightly about her cup as she began quietly, "Professor... That won't be a popular sentiment, you do know that, right? What if you're called into question for taking us in? A former Black Eagle, and a handful of children all hailing from the Empire?"

"Then those saying my judgement is wrong have forgotten the larger picture. Forgotten what this monastery, what the Church of Seiros, was created to do." Raine's answer came quickly and curtly, and her eyes flashed fire as if she was daring anyone, anyone at all, to say such a thing to her face. She knew full well it was a possibility, but she didn't care. What did it matter? In the grand scheme of it all, Garreg Mach had not changed, even if the world about it was embroiled in war. It had once stood as a place of sanctuary, and more than ever, that was needed regardless of logistics and circumstance. And... Her smile was half coy, half almost downright malevolent as she added on with a shake of her head, "Rhea may no longer be here, but she did put me in charge. Putting aside the fact that it was likely the most ridiculous position to put me in, if everyone wishes for me to lead, they'll need to acknowledge the fact that my decisions will never be universally liked. If this happens to be one of them... So be it. I won't go to the grave with turning away helpless orphans on my conscience, logistics be damned."

Dorothea that silent, taking in the words and their meanings, and reminded of that moment, five long years ago, when she had sat beside Bernadetta in her quarters with Caspar and Petra, and had been told to make a choice she wanted to make, and not one she would be compelled to do. That fire in her seafoam eyes, that warmth that came from both compassion and idealism, had not flickered or dimmed even an ounce since she had seen her last. It made her both wonder and ache, for simpler times and happier moments, and for the first time in many a year... She felt both at ease, and completely safe. Here, underneath the wings of the Blue Lion's former professor... She would always be safe if she chose to seek shelter there. She raised a hand, carefully wiping at the corners of her eyes to hide the stinging of oncoming tears as she remarked with a weak little chuckle, "Heh... You really haven't changed at all, have you...? Not even a little bit. It's really like last time we spoke... All those years ago."

"For you it was five years. For me, it's been barely more than a handful of weeks." Raine admitted with a wry smile as she felt Dorothea's words pierce into her stomach and wrench at her in painful reminder. It hurt, still, despite all of her efforts to push on through it. She had found her feet in battle, there was no hesitation on the field unless she wished for death, but that didn't mean she had found her place just yet in this strange, new world. She still felt misplaced, her five years gone and her entire being aching for all she had missed, but there was so little she could do about it. And even complaining felt trite, when she looked to how the world had suffered while she had slept on in peace and ignorance. Did she even have the right to feel sorry for herself, even if she was stumbling about half-blind in remembrance that what she had experienced was not indeed her "yesterday"?

"I know... and you need to know those words are why I'm here today." Dorothea let out a long breath as she decided that the facts she had been presented with, as outlandish as it seemed, were indeed the truth. She wasn't about to question the details, as they were not hers to question, but Raine's honesty was refreshing, and it deserved truth of its own in answer. She looked up from her tea, now holding the other woman's gaze confidently as she offered a gentle smile before she explained, "Why a lot of us are where we are today, actually. We listened to you, you know. All of us did."

"I'm sorry?"

"I kept in contact with my classmates. Well, as best as I could, once I left the Empire... I know where most of them are. I wasn't sure if I should tell you, because of the circumstances... but you're right. You haven't changed, not a bit... and that means I can trust you with what I know." Dorothea explained with a growing smile at the look of puzzlement that crossed Raine's face at her words, and she took a moment to take a sip of her now-cooled tea to let the words fully sink in to the clearly surprised woman. She really hadn't changed. She still didn't understand how important she was, how much of an impact she could have, and did have, and it made it very difficult for Dorothea to hide her amusement as she continued on gently, "Consider it a gesture of goodwill, at the very least. You can show anyone willing to argue with you that you got something out of taking me and the children in, even if it's only information."

Raine shook her head, though there admittedly was a part of her that felt her stomach leap into her throat at the idea of knowing that the singer's classmates were not in such terrible positions as she had initially feared. She had had no way of knowing of the locations of the former Black Eagles, and Petra had admitted with honest disappointment that once she had been forced to return to Brigid, she had been isolated from all of her former classmates entirely, both from the Empire, and the Kingdom. Despite her wish to know if she was to put her sword against the children she had once known and had even had a chance of teaching, she still could not warrant using them as a gesture of goodwill for her comrades. It felt wrong, and she knew that showed clearly on her face as she began warily, slowly, "Dorothea, I don't want to use your classmates as leverage..."

"You won't be. Most of us aren't fighting. That's what I want you to know. I wasn't the only one who chose to part ways with the Empire." Dorothea dismissed the concerns as they came, offering a gentle smile as she understood Raine's concern and brushed it away in the same moment. It was all genuine, there was absolutely nothing underhanded about her desires or actions, and that made Dorothea bold, and at ease as she began without preamble, or any allowing for Raine to continue to argue, "Take Caspar, for instance. He was banished from his house because of his opinions on the war, and he and Linhardt both decided to abandon the Empire together, just as they said they would when you spoke to them all those years ago. Caspar meant it when he said he wouldn't fight for Edelgard, regardless of what it would cost him."

"I'd like to say I'm surprised, but quite honestly, I knew if anyone would be avoiding getting entangled in the Imperial army, it would certainly be Caspar..." Raine shook her head as she mused slowly on Caspar's actions, but there was no fighting the smile that curled at her lips at the knowledge that the brawler had held true to his word to refuse to fight for Edelgard regardless of the consequences. He truly held tight to his ideals of justice and right and wrong, and even after five years, he had not changed at all in that regard. It was a comforting thought, amidst all of this other darkness, but she did admit with a little laugh as she thought of that forest-haired mage who needed to be pulled or shoved along in order to do almost anything, "I'll admit, I'm just surprised he managed to take Linhardt with him, of all things. I'm glad, mind you, but I am still surprised he was motivated enough to leave."

"Oh, it was more than that. Linhardt stole a few things from his father's vault on his way out, if his story is to be believed... He was certainly motivated to be putting the war behind him, once he saw that Caspar had no intention to stay." Dorothea chuckled, remembering those missives she had traded with the duo when she had first thought of reaching out to them upon her own departure from the Empire's territory. It had been with worry that she had received their first letters, then amusement, and then shortly after shock, but none of it was anything else but a comfort now that the passage of time had made her understand where they had been, and what they had all been forced to do in order to do what they _wante_ _d,_ and not what was _expected_ of them. "But, moreso than that, before they left the Empire entirely, they made a stop at House Varley, as well as quite the ruckus... They took Bernie along with them."

"They _kidnapped_ Bernadetta?"

Dorothea choked on a laugh at Raine's astonished exclamation, and she had to admit, at the time when she had read Linhardt's dry explanation of their "adventures" in his letters, she had had the exact same reaction. Only the letter Bernie had enclosed along with Linhardt had quashed any and all feelings she had of anger or uncertainty for the boys' actions, as it had proved that despite her initial panic, she was actually quite grateful for the chance to be out from underneath her father's thumb again. It was not exactly what she had expected, or in fact even wanted, but being in Caspar and Linhardt's company was much better than anything she had been living with before. She waved a hand, choking on her laughter as she tried to explain for the professor's wide-eyed reaction, "I wouldn't so much call it kidnapping as I would a rescue, quite honestly. Bernie didn't want to go home, even after we fled Garreg Mach before the invasion. She didn't know what she wanted to do, but she most certainly _never_ wanted to return to her father, or to answer Edelgard's summons... But she didn't have a choice, when we had to eventually return to the Empire when the dust settled. Caspar had to know that. Why else would he bother to go there when he and Lin could have easily slipped away without notice?"

"I suppose that makes enough sense, but... I wish I could say I was surprised, but considering Caspar, he would do it, and it's not as if Linhardt is capable of restraining him once he puts his mind to something..." Raine shook her head, both with wonder and amazement, and she almost wished she could have been a fly on the wall for that particular mess. Caspar was not a man of subtlety, and if he had stormed House Varley for Bernadetta, it would have been a loud, messy, and wild affair, with poor Linhardt and Bernadetta being dragged along for his wild escapades, no matter how well-intentioned they had to be. She fought a smile, knowing it wasn't proper of her to be finding amusement in such a thing, but it was a strain to do so as she mused into her teacup in a desperate effort to not chuckle aloud, "Ah, but poor Bernadetta. That can't have been easy for her. Caspar isn't exactly a subtle man... and we both know she does not do well with being forced out of her comfort zone."

"I think she's all right. She wasn't as upset as she wanted to sound in her letters... I know that Caspar's a magnet for trouble, but he's been keeping her out of it, for whatever that's worth. She's safer with him than she is at home, or in the Empire. I know that for certain." Dorothea reassured her with a smile, and she felt just as glad as she knew Raine did with such information tucked safely away. She hadn't known what to think of it until Bernadetta had said herself that she at least was happy to be beyond the Empire's borders even if she didn't like how it was handled, and knowing that Caspar was keeping himself leashed for her sake, if for nothing else, was also a great comfort. He cared for her a great deal, enough to try to hold himself in check after his initial thoughtless charging forward, and she smiled as she admitted, "Caspar will do anything to keep her safe. He said as much to me, in his last letter before we lost contact. I don't know where they are now, but if they're together, then Bernie is safe, and far away from the fighting... That's a good weight off my shoulders."

"And what about Linhardt?"

Dorothea sighed, as she hadn't been pleased with what Linhardt had chosen to do when she had learned of it, but she knew that there was little she could do about it. Caspar and Bernadetta had been unable to persuade him to stay with them, and he had all but dropped off of the face of Fódlan without more than a single farewell letter. She trusted that he was alive and well, if only for her own sake than anything else, but it was admittedly frustrating to not know what he was doing, or why, and she knew it showed on her face as she answered slowly for Raine, "Linhardt travelled with them for a time, but he left them to go to the Alliance when they were skirting through the territory... He said he had pressing concerns there, and he wanted to handle it by himself. No matter how much arguing there was, no one could dissuade him, and he went on his way just like he always did. Caspar wasn't happy about it, but... It _must_ have been important to Lin. From what I know, though, it doesn't have anything to do with the war. He's staying far away from the frontlines. I know it has something to do with his research, but he wouldn't tell me more, and he hasn't answered any of my letters since."

"The Alliance...? His research?" Raine furrowed her brow at the unexpected words, and she tilted her head to the side as she wracked her mind for answers to the multitude of questions this information presented to her. From all of her knowledge, which admittedly was not much, she had surmised that the majority of research into Crests had always stemmed from the Empire and their closest territories rather than the Alliance. For Linhardt to abandon his friend for his research, especially in Alliance territory of all places, was certainly a surprise, and one she could not admittedly understand. "I suppose if he wished to do research unimpeded by Edelgard's rule, the Alliance was likely the safest place for him to take refuge, in light of how fractured the Kingdom is at current... But what exactly would he be researching there that would make him choose to do it by himself?"

"I wish I knew. He stopped writing me, and Caspar didn't have any idea, either. They parted ways near House Ordelia's territory, and if they've kept contact since, I have no idea..." Dorothea shook her head slowly with a deep frown furrowing her brow, and her worry clenched her chest as she hoped that her friends had managed to keep themselves from trouble in the last few years. Keeping in regular contact was not easy even under the best of circumstances, and they all were as close to refugees as they could come now, which made things all the more difficult. She sighed as she admitted sadly, "We all did leave around the same time, but we haven't had much chance to keep in contact these past few years. We've all fled to the winds, really, and though I didn't move quite far from where I settled, Caspar and Bernadetta at the very least have if his last letter or two were any indication. Lin is Lin, and having him stop writing wasn't a surprise, but... I am hoping that somehow soon, I'll hear from Bernie again, at the very least."

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two, and Raine felt her lips pulling down into a frown at the obvious lack of mention of the one Black Eagle that she and Petra had been unable to reach when she had made an attempt to speak to them all of making choices for themselves rather than anything else. It was obvious from the pained look in Dorothea's eyes that her mind had gone to the exact same place, but what she hadn't expected to see was the look of obvious heartache written plainly across her face. The thought of that young politician was obviously a severe injury to Dorothea, and Raine hesitated to even begin to probe such a wound despite her desire to know if her worst fears were correct.

Dorothea took in a shaky breath, feeling her chest tighten and her fingers grow cold despite the heat of the cup she was still holding, and a quick look upwards at Raine's face proved she was trying desperately to hold herself back from asking about the one student that she had yet to mention. It made her smile sadly, knowing that Raine was trying to be kind for her feelings, but she knew that her own emotions didn't matter. It was important that she know the truth, that she know what was to come if she was to continue to walk this path against the Empire, and it made her swallow down that knot in her throat as she began slowly, firmly, "Ferdie... didn't leave with us, as I'm sure you've already guessed."

"Dorothea..."

"No, please, Professor. Let me continue. I have to." Dorothea interrupted that kind, compassionate call of her name that was also an offer for her to quit while she was ahead as quickly and as firmly as her voice would manage. She knew it had shaken on his name, her heart was still broken from the last time they had shared words, if she could even call their last interaction such a thing, but her own feelings did not matter now. She took in a breath to steel herself, forcing her eyes up as she picked herself up again to begin, "He's chosen to stay with the Empire. With the Imperial forces. I tried so many times to talk him out of it. When I planned to leave, I... I begged him to come with me, but he wouldn't hear of it. He had made up his mind. He felt it was duty to continue to try to guide Edelgard onto a proper path again, befitting the Empire, befitting the throne... even if it would cost him everything. We fought... It was the last time I saw him."

Raine winced, averting her eyes as she heard that aching, wistful note in Dorothea's voice despite how valiantly the singer was trying to hide it. Her eyes had taken on an unnaturally shiny hue, proof of tears she was fighting back, but there was no use in it. Her sadness, her despair and helplessness, were on clear display for Raine. She knew that feeling, that horribly twisted feeling of watching someone she cared for pull themselves beyond her reach despite all of their efforts to keep them close and out of danger, and it was not something she wished on even her worst enemy. Dorothea was heartbroken for Ferdinand, for how their relationship had deteriorated, and she was also afraid for him and the path he was heading down. "I'm... I'm sorry, Dorothea... That couldn't have been easy for you."

"No... It wasn't. I _hate_ the thought that the last thing we did was fight, but... I can't stop him from doing what he believes is right, just as much as he couldn't stop me from leaving." Dorothea let out a breath as her shoulders slumped despite her best efforts, and she took in another deep and shaky breath before again raising a hand to brush her eyes on the back of her sleeves. It hurt, and hurt deeply, to think that their last exchange had been so full of anger and acid and frustration, but she had had five long years to come to terms with it. Though, she had to admit to herself as she watched Raine watching her in sympathetic silence that perhaps she hadn't come to terms with it at all in reality. Perhaps she had only been pretending, putting her feelings away in a small, sealed box and hiding it somewhere she didn't have to look, if only because it just hurt too much to face it and all that came with it. "It was a decision he wanted to make, in the end... and I remember what you said, Professor. That you'd respect a decision we made because we wanted to, even if it meant that we'd one day be enemies... Ferdie chose a path that will run counter to yours... I just... I just wanted you to know that, if you were to... In the fighting..."

"Stop. Don't... It's all right. You don't need to say anything else." Raine cut her off firmly but not unkindly as she heard Dorothea's voice beginning to break, and she reached out across the table to settle a comforting hand on one of the singer's in a gentle gesture. She didn't want to think of it anymore than she knew Dorothea did. She respected Ferdinand and his single-minded devotion to his homeland and his position, and she would never think less of him for choosing to remain even when his friends departed... but it did not mean she wished to think of the day when her sword would have to clash with his because of that choice. It was unlikely, that they would end up clashing personally, but the chance was all too real, and it caused her enough distress on its own. She could hardly imagine how much it had to hurt Dorothea, coming to the conclusion that she could very well lose him to the people she had come to for help, and that knowledge made her continue brusquely, "Leave it where it is, at least for now. You've said enough for today. I'm thankful for everything you've told me, and I'll keep it close for the future... but for now, let that be the end of it. Attend to your children. Start to settle back in. See Ingrid and Petra, and try to get a little rest... You need it. I think we all do."

"Oh... Ingrid and Petra are here. I forgot that they would be... It'll be nice to see them again." Dorothea smiled through her sniffling, pushing her emotions back down at Raine's urging despite knowing that one day, soon enough, she would be forced to unearth them again when the time came. But she understood the professor's insistence to rest, to put it aside for the moment if only to stop herself from collapsing where she sat, and she appreciated her kindness more than she could put into words as she forced out a laugh she didn't feel, "I imagine they'll be as surprised as you were, when the figure out what I've been up to for the past few years... Will you let them know when you see them that I'm here?"

"I will... and as much as I'd like to stay... I'm afraid I have my duties to attend to, and a few details to have sorted out now that you'll be here." Raine slowly pushed herself to her feet despite all of her desires to stay seated where she was and continue to drink in the old and familiar company. She hated the idea of the conflicts likely to come with her decisions, but she did not regret them in the least, and felt those familiar protective instincts flaring up again as she watched Dorothea accept her words with a still slightly tearful smile. She had only been involved in this mess for two moons, and already she felt overwhelmed and aching with all of their pain that she was witnessing, and she didn't want to think of how much more was to come in the days ahead. She needed the break almost as much as she knew Dorothea did, and she offered her a smile that didn't reach her eyes despite her best attempts as she spoke quietly, "If anything happens, or you run into any trouble, call me immediately, and I'll see it sorted. But I think you'll be fine, yes? Just relax, and make yourself at home. I promise to check in on you and yours soon."

"Thank you, Professor."

Raine accepted the thanks with a nod before she excused herself, and she felt the weight of her duties, her position, almost at once slam itself back onto her shoulders the moment she left the gardens behind and returned to the great, sprawling halls of Garreg Mach. It was just a simple conversation over tea, and yet she felt utterly spent from it, and she had to wonder at her flagging stamina. Was she truly cut out for this, if even just seeing old faces that could have been enemies brought out such a reaction in her? She wasn't truly sure, and she admitted it made her question herself more than ever, despite how much she had tried to project confidence and reassurance for someone who needed it much more than she did. 'I think I need to speak with Seteth about much more than Dorothea, when I finally catch the man...'

"So, this is how you choose to protect Garreg Mach, by allowing the rats to return to infest its walls, so soon after driving them out. Is this your idea of waging war?"

The words hit like a blow from an axe, and as much as she hated to admit it, hearing them so suddenly spoken from behind her made her leap like a scalded cat as her hand automatically shot for her belt and the handle of her blade. She wasn't sure if it was his rough, derisive tone, or the fact that his sheer size and sudden appearance from behind her had made her first involuntary reaction be panic, but Raine fought it down as best she could as she turned half on her heel to face the man who had been hiding in the shadows, eavesdropping on what she had considered to be a private conversation.

Dimitri was watching her coldly, leaning against the wall as contempt coloured his expression and that one, wild cerulean eye that was appraising her like a cat about to shred its prey to pieces for a meal. His arms were folded across his chest in an imposing stance, and the lance he held in one of his hands only proved that he had heard possibly everything, and his first and initial reaction to Dorothea's appearance had been to grab a weapon despite knowing no other details than that a former student of the Black Eagles had arrived into the walls of Garreg Mach.

Raine took all of this in without a change of expression even as her stomach tightened uncomfortably with a mixture of anger and disappointment. She was numbly aware that none of it surprised her, and that only made her ache, but she pushed it aside without a second glance. Now was not the time to dwell on such thoughts, especially as she understood at once she was now in a very dangerous situation that she had to diffuse whether or not she was prepared for it. She stood her ground, carefully placing the mask of the Ashen Demon back onto her face as she answered Dimitri's callous words with a cool reply of her own, "Is that your opinion on allowing orphans and former classmates back into the sanctuary of the monastery, when they obviously aren't posing a threat to you or the war effort?"

"You think them incapable of a threat? Are you that divorced from the reality of this war?" Dimitri's voice dripped derision and cruelty, and his lips curled upwards into a cold, deadly smile as if he could not believe her words, or her naivety. She would welcome her enemies into her home, into their base of operations, without once considering the risk she was taking in doing so? She had fallen far farther than he had once assumed, or, she was simply that blind of the reality of the world she now was living in. It did not matter to him either way, which she truly was, but her decisions could not stand regardless of her excuses. He would not permit it. "They're vermin, all of them, and they must be exterminated. This world cannot rest until the Empire is completely obliterated."

"This world, or you? And frankly, I don't care about the latter if this is to be your reaction to an act of charity." Raine's hands twitched at her sides as she forced them down from her weapon with more effort than she wanted to admit, and she turned totally on her heel now to face Dimitri head-on. His words still disturbed her, still made her blood run cold at how desperately he was clinging to his hate and bloodlust, but the sudden plume of anger she felt was enough to combat it. And she realized somewhat dully that she was indeed truly angry with him, with his words, and it made her feel reckless, fearless, and she met his glare and returned it with one of her own as she continued sharply, "I agree that the Empire needs to be stopped, but I won't allow for you to call for the deaths of every last man, woman, and child simply because of where they had the unfortunate luck to be born. If you believe this war is going to end with the complete destruction of the Empire and all of its citizens, then I'm afraid you're going to be sorely disappointed. I won't permit it."

"You won't permit it? Do you understand just what it is you're saying? You're going to allow these vermin to continue to proliferate, even within these very walls, and do nothing to stop it?" Dimitri watched her almost with disbelief, but all too quickly he was shaking his head, his upper lip curling into something akin to a snarl, or a dismissive sort of smirk as he looked down on her words with a mocking sort of amusement. She truly was a fool, a blind, ignorant fool, and she'd be the death of them all if she continued to lead with her beliefs rather than by the simple facts of how the world had changed in her absence. "You're condemning us all to death with such foolish acts. And for what? So your so-called conscience can be appeased in the grave? Will you be appeased when the rest of us all lie cold and dead alongside you as well?"

"They're _children,_ Dimitri! What in the blazes do you believe they'll be capable of doing to you, to anyone, simply by virtue of existing in the same world as you?!" Raine felt herself explode, her teeth clenching until her jaw threatened to crack as she felt all of her anger rush out without control or care. She could barely believe such nonsense was spilling from his mouth, and yet she knew he was so possessed, so single-mindedly controlled by his rage and bloodlust that he had long since stopped being able to ascertain what truly was right and wrong. It made her furious as well as disgusted, and she couldn't help herself as she snarled back in his face, "Listen here and listen well. Dorothea and those children are here under the protection of the Church of Seiros, and they will be welcomed and undisturbed here. And moreover, they're under _my_ protection. If something, anything, happens to them to cause them injury... I will find the one responsible and gut them myself, do you understand me? I don't care who they are, or what their reasoning might be. I won't stand for the murder of innocents in these walls, or outside of it. I won't fight that way. I won't permit anyone to fight that way."

Dimitri shook his head, chuckling at her outburst and unaffected by her show of anger. It meant nothing. Less than nothing. She was too caught up in the belief of being good meaning that she would win, and he knew for a fact that simply was not true. One had to become a monster to fight monsters, and he had long ago accepted that was the way of the world. Her decisions would only bring more bloodshed and bodies, and would leave the Empire victorious in the end, if it didn't take her first. "Then you _are_ leading us all to death, simply to appease your conscience and your blind belief that fighting a "just" war somehow makes you less of a monster than those you're taking up arms against. You will not win by behaving like such a coward."

"And you won't win simply because you're willing to stoop to their levels of depravity because you think it makes the playing field even. It doesn't, Dimitri. It just makes you more of a monster than them." The words came out like acid, burning her tongue, burning the entirety of her insides, but she did not regret speaking them for a moment. He was unmoved, unblinking in the face of her wrath, but she did not care. He had crossed a line, and she would not allow for him to cross another. She would stand in his way until he cut her down, and she knew it showed in her eyes as she continued sharply, "I won't allow your worldview to taint mine, or direct the way this war will be fought. If you wish to stain yourself in blood, then so be it. It's obviously far too late to help you now. But you will not take us all down with you in the process. If you find that too much for you to take, then learn to deal with it, or cut me down and assume command. It's your choice."

"There'll be no need for that. Soon enough, you'll find a blade lodged between your shoulders, slid there because your charity led for these vermin to take all the more advantage of you. When that day comes, you'll get no sympathy from me. Just remember that I warned you, when the flames come to take you. It's more than you deserve for being so stubbornly naive." Dimitri dismissed her challenge with a shake of his head, another cold, quiet chuckle escaping his lips as he wondered how long it would take before she would finally learn the harsh truths that she seemed so intent on avoiding and averting her eyes from. He could bide his time, and he did not need her permission to act as he wished. The Emperor would fall by his hand and his hand alone, and it all would stop when that accursed woman was dead. He had been promised that much, and he believed it wholeheartedly. He believed _them_ wholeheartedly. He did not need her for that. He needed no one.

Raine watched without a word as he turned and left, clearly confident he was in the right and had only to wait in order for her to realize it. She didn't move until he disappeared back into the shadows of the hallway, leaving the gardens behind him as he likely went to return to the chapel where he could usually be found with his mocking silence and that cold, uncaring stare of his. It was only when he was gone that she realized she could hear the sound of a steady drip of liquid on stone somewhere near her foot, and she glanced down errantly before realizing that a small puddle of blood had formed below her shaking hands sometime without her notice.

"Damn..." Raine winced as she forced her fingers to unclench, revealing four perfect crescent-moon shaped cuts that she had punctured into her palms with her own nails. She wondered when she had balled her hands into fists, and moreover when she had gripped them down tight enough to cause herself injury. She couldn't remember feeling pain. Only anger and disgust and fright, all mixed into an ugly ball of emotion that had made her taste bile and seized her chest until it became hard to breathe. She forced out a breath, glancing down at her scored palms without really seeing the injuries, or the blood that was trickling down through her fingers and to the floor.

'Is he really that far gone...? How much of what he's saying is him, and not this damn madness that's gripped him...?' Raine wiped away the blood on her sleeves, numb to the pain in her hands and knowing she would need to wrap them quietly on her own before she sought out anyone for a meeting, or even a casual chat. Anyone with eyes would see her wounds immediately, and at least if they were wrapped she could make excuses for how she had come by an injury on her hands. If anyone saw that she had done it to herself that would lead to questions, and she was in no mood to answer them and stir up further trouble with the truth. It only made her head spin faster and her stomach tighten painfully, and she forced in another deep, slow breath as she fought for a clear head.

It was reassuring that Dimitri had given up without much of a fight over Dorothea, as it meant he only wanted to be heard and would be more than happy to watch her fail, if that's what he believed the outcome would be. He had wanted to make a point, not so much of a threat, but she didn't regret how she had reacted. If it had put him off it was all the better, and if it had made her a fool... She didn't really care. Her appearance wasn't of importance, not against the safety of those she was taking in of her own accord, but it was a burden she was stumbling underneath all the same. She wasn't sure how much more of it she could shoulder. She felt ready to collapse every single time she tried to stand, and he was not making it any easier.

'I was fooling myself... Thinking I wasn't leaning on him, and that it was the other way around, wasn't I...?' Raine stared down at her bloody hands, not really seeing them as she bit her lower lip and felt that odd mixture of warmth and pain once again begin to suffuse her chest until breathing became difficult to do. Her throat was tight and her eyes stung, but she didn't care for any of her physical discomforts. They were far and away, distant and numb, and she let out a tired breath as she murmured to herself, "Some professor I've been... Leaning on him, grasping blindly at things I could barely comprehend, and thinking I was doing so well standing on my own two feet... Gods, I'm so damned stupid..."

Dorothea's expression was seared into her mind. Her heartbroken words ringing in her ears, and making Raine wonder if any of this pain she was feeling was even remotely similar. Her heart had never beat, and it likely never would. She did not feel her emotions in her chest, as she had learned so many others did. Instead she only felt emptiness there, as if she was still missing some vital piece of herself, while the rest of her body tried in vain to pick up the slack. Instead of a broken heart she only felt nausea and cold, and though she knew she could cry, that hardly seemed like enough. It hadn't been for her father... and it didn't feel remotely right for Dimitri, either.

Closing her eyes, Raine took in another deep breath as she forced everything down for another time, and another place. She still had duties to attend to, and none of her emotions were as important. She would return to her quarters to quickly attend to her hands, and then return to her work as she knew she had to. She had to ensure both Seteth and Gilbert were on board with her new decisions, smooth out the plans for the meeting with Rodrigue in the Valley of Torment come the moon's ending, and prepare her troops for the fighting that was sure to continue even if everything was to go to plan in the coming weeks. The burdens were growing heavier... but she wasn't ready to buckle down underneath it just yet. There was simply too much to do for that to be permitted.

"Maybe, when all of this is over... Just maybe..." Raine sighed to herself as she turned in the direction of her quarters and began to walk, and she pulled her sleeves errantly over her hands to hide them on the off chance she ended up running into a too-familiar face. She was tired... but it was nothing new. She could cling to her silly little dreams of rest and a chance for it all to be _over,_ when it truly was, but that was a far distant idea. For now, duty was calling, and she was ever the obedient slave. There was no other choice for it, no matter how tired she was. Maybes were the sweet things of her dreams, not the reality that she knew, and she would put on a mask, hide her exhaustion, and do what what was needed until she could finally rest. She owed them that much, at the very least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Time-skip Dimitri's an arse to write, I've realized. He's worse than Warin. At least, in his current state he really is, but who knows how that'll change when it comes for "that time" and he's simmered a little bit out of the crazy... It's difficult to capture him just right, between that bloodthirsty veneer, as well as the coldly mocking man he is when he isn't engaged in a fight. Everything but the chase for Edelgard is beneath his notice for a good while, and that includes his former friends and professor, despite those occasional pinpricks of conscience and good sense. It's interesting, because while he is clearly not well at all in terms of mental health, he is still relatively intelligent and capable of making good arguments for his own benefits, though he comes off as cold, demeaning, and completely apathetic about anything not related to his end goals.
> 
> And those end goals certainly are scary as hell, when they're looked at from a distance. His hatred isn't exclusive to Edelgard, and he expands it clearly to all in the Empire, completely casting aside the fact that the soldiers he's facing are not the men and women he should be venting his anger on. It's as clear as his first words about waging war on the Empire, that he finds them all to be guilty and therefore must be punished as a whole, and I wanted to apply that enmity, as illogical as it is, to even the most innocent that he'd end up facing if those not aligned with the Empire at present, but clearly were in the past, could come knocking on the doors of Garreg Mach.
> 
> Dorothea, as well as the rest of the Black Eagles, were fun to write about in this chapter (with the exception of Ferdinand), and going off of "Flight of the Eagles", this is the logical conclusion I've reached about where they all would be at the time of Azure Moon, at least in my own world. Dorothea splintering away to do her own thing, Caspar grabbing Bernadetta and Linhardt to join him on an adventure until Linhardt splits to do his own thing... (Can anybody guess what he's doing and why? A cookie for a right answer! XD) I really cannot see those four, in good conscience, standing beside Edelgard. Bernadetta would need cajoling in one form or another in order to not be "forced" into taking a side with her, which is where Caspar comes into play, but that's really only because I romance them together, and I have a lot of difficulty imagining he wouldn't be busting into House Varley to rescue her from her father if he's not interested in joining the Imperial army... (This is my fault for recruiting everyone, I suppose... I'm bad that way.)
> 
> However, with that said, do not expect everyone to show up at Garreg Mach as Dorothea has. Dorothea is taking the firm position of a non-combatant and she will not be taking the field for the rebellion. And no Alliance students besides Raphael, who has been recruited into the Blue Lions, will be throwing their lot in with the rebellion, either. It's simply infeasible to imagine all of the Black Eagles forming up with the Blue Lions to fight against the Empire, and so they simply will not in this work. Their lives as Empire citizens may be over during the war, but that doesn't mean they need to fight alongside the rebellion. Of course, this does make Ferdinand an interesting case, and that will be dealt with in upcoming fics... and I do also plan to mention Alliance students as it becomes appropriate, so you'll see familiar faces as we go, I promise.
> 
> Anyway! Thank you for reading through this slog of a work, as well as this incoherent author's note. I'm always thankful for your attention and kindness, and I hope you'll drop me a review should you feel the need. I hope I'll see you again next chapter, and I hope you've a good one in the meantime!
> 
> Mood: Introspective.
> 
> Listening To: "Send Your Love" - Adele
> 
> ~ Sky


	5. Beneath The Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Rating: Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Friendship. (T)
> 
> Characters: Mercedes, Felix, Warin, Rodrigue.
> 
> Summary: Wherever she went, regardless of the day's intentions, Mercedes ran into things she either was never meant to see, or troubles that needed her aid, even if it was unasked for. She was a healer born and bred, and to delay her own schedule for others came naturally to her, but sometimes she wondered if she was taking on too much of a burden. A lost orphan, her professor's scarred and misunderstood brother, and Felix's father... All in a row, all too much for her to handle by herself, yet she never shrunk away from it. She wanted to help, it was in her very blood, and when she found herself stumbling... She knew exactly who she needed to reach for.

**Pegasus Moon**

**Garreg Mach Halls**

**Noontime**

Mercedes was well and truly vexed as she stood at the entrance to the halls, her hands on her hips as she surveyed her surroundings thoughtfully... The problem that had been thrust on her shoulders was not exactly one she was certain she could solve, if only due to her inexperience, but she was more than willing to try to offer aid to the young woman who had come begging for it the moment she had seen her passing through on her way to the chapel. Mercedes had been glad to put aside her own obligations when she had seen the worried and fearful look on Dorothea's face, and once the situation had been explained to her, she could well understand why the former Black Eagle was so worried.

One of her children had simply disappeared and never returned from playtime for lunch with the rest of her friends, and none of the other monastery children had seen hide nor hair of her since they had all left their studies to play. Though there was no doubt she was still on monastery grounds, it didn't make Dorothea any more comfortable to know that one of her wards had wandered off somewhere. Garreg Mach was still undergoing repairs, and many of the worse areas hadn't been properly sealed off to prevent a child's curiosity and their desire to explore. It was very likely she could get herself injured if she wandered off too far, or into the wrong place, and though Dorothea had already enlisted a handful of helpers from the church, she still was asking every person who passed by to keep their eyes out.

Mercedes was glad to join in the search, as the chapel certainly was not going anywhere, nor was the goddess, and delaying her prayers to find a missing child was certainly a valid reason to put off her usual habits. Though it had been a little more difficult in wrangling Felix into the hunt, as he had been accompanying her to the chapel before his usual training exercises. The swordsman had not been interested whatsoever in lending his hand to the search, and Mercedes had been forced to cajole him into entertaining the idea. It wasn't surprising that he didn't much care, as it didn't involve him personally and was cutting into his time in the training grounds, but Mercedes hadn't been about to permit him to use either of those things as an excuse.

_"She's just a little girl, Felix. She may be scared, or hurt." Mercedes tried to hide her disappointment in hearing him brush aside the concern so callously, even if it didn't quite surprise her. Very few things were as important to him as training, especially in these days, and usually she was wise enough to pick her battles and permit him to do as he liked without trying to change his mind. Now, however was not the right time to cede to good manners, especially when a child's welfare was at stake. As much as she doubted her ability to find one little girl in the entirety of Garreg Mach all on her own, she certainly was not about to simply brush it aside for someone else to do. It simply was not in her nature... and she didn't believe it was truly in Felix's, either. "Surely your training can wait just until she's found, can't it?"_

_"Doesn't this monastery have more important things to attend to than chasing after orphaned children? Children, who by the way, shouldn't even be here?" Felix shook his head as his fingers impatiently drummed a tattoo into the hilt of the sword that was hanging from his belt. His father's gift upon his joining up with their forces was one he wanted to learn as quickly as he possibly could, and every moment he wasn't training with it was a moment wasted. It didn't help that he still didn't understand what his professor had been thinking, permitting a lot of orphaned children to find shelter in Garreg Mach in the first place, but he already knew it wasn't for him to argue against. She had made it very clear that this was one decision no one was about to argue on, and not a soul had the courage try and debate with her after that particular challenge, and that included him. He valued his neck more than he valued his right to speak venom whenever he felt it pertinent._

_However, his professor was not here to overhear him, and that loosened his lips. It didn't matter that he knew full well Mercedes was completely behind her decision, either. He still saw no sense in it, and he didn't care for the idea of "charity". There were already lives at stake, and a clear conscience meant nothing to him if it meant taking on more risks for no gain. That sort of behaviour wouldn't sharpen his blade properly. It only made it all the more likely for it to break, and that showed in his voice as he muttered mostly under his breath, "It's a base for the rebellion, not an orphanage. I don't know what the professor was thinking, accepting this lot in..."_

_"She was thinking that even if this was the base for the rebellion that Garreg Mach could not afford to forget its roots. Nor could the Church of Seiros." Mercedes reminded him patiently, and she felt her heart warm at her professor's efforts to remind the soldiers, and former students, of what was truly at risk even as they fought what looked to be an impossible fight. The war effort was more than just sending the able-bodied and battle-ready to the frontlines to fight... and her professor knew it, even if others did not, or could not see that clearly. "Peace, learning, and charity... They are all tenants of the teachings of the goddess. Even in wartime, they cannot be forgotten."_

_"Peace, learning, and charity won't save your life when you're fighting." Felix pointed out with a raised eyebrow, but his voice only held the faintest hint of his usual vitriol. It was different, arguing with Mercedes about war, as he had come to learn quickly during their student days. She was an idealist, and deeply devout and empathetic, which were all foreign concepts for him to act on. At first he had considered her naive, and relatively annoying at that, but her had been drawn to her all the same. Her warmth was comforting. Her accepting attitude, even in the face of his worst, had stirred up guilt rather than making him feeling defensive. She had thrown herself all-too-happily into blows meant for him in those days, simply stating it was what she wished to do, even if she knew she was not a fighter as he was._

_No, she was a healer at her core, on and off of the battlefield, which meant she needed a guardian to protect her from herself. It had been with annoyance that he had taken on that role to repay his debt, minding her on the field while he swung his sword, and now he could not feel at ease unless he was sure he knew where she was at all times during the fighting. He knew it wrong. She was capable, far more capable than she looked with both a bow and magic in hand, but she was still prone to acting first and thinking later when it came to those in need. Not so much a stupid motive, as her kindness was absolutely pure, but it made him worry sometimes that she'd lose sight of the true goal and one day earn an injury even the best of them, which had always been her, couldn't heal. It made his voice sharp, but not with anger, as he pointed out, "And as nice as it is, filling up the monastery with children who need homes, it puts a strain on our resources. Professor has to know that, but she took them all in anyway. And a former Black Eagle at that, to boot. It's like she wants the boar to lose what little mind he has left."_

_Mercedes winced, but decided it was best she not remark on the fact that Dimitri was vocally against the Imperial citizens taking refuge in Garreg Mach. He had been overruled, as their professor had put her foot firmly down, and with Seteth and Gilbert's support, had made any argument towards her choice moot. The orphans had been moved in, and were to be undisturbed. Dorothea would not be joining them in fighting, and instead would handle minor tasks and relief work inside of the monastery to "earn her keep". It was clear Raine didn't believe she needed to do such a thing as a refugee, but she saw the need to give Dorothea further protection from any possible assaults on her motives, and it saddened Mercedes greatly to think that acts of charity had to be scrutinized so. "The professor made her decision, and she made it very clear that she won't permit arguing over it. I doubt even His Highness will test her as she is right now... and all that aside, it still leaves a little girl lost in the monastery. Even should we debate all day, she will not disappear. I am going to find her. Will you look with me?"_

_"I don't have time to waste tracking children. I have to train." Felix repeated bluntly as he turned his face back towards the training grounds, but he didn't need to look at the blond beside him to know she was disappointed with him. Normally, such a thing wouldn't bother him. He'd grown quite used to being a disappointment. A second. A replacement. But Mercedes didn't look at him that way, despite their initial misunderstandings, and disappointing her left him stinging in a way no one else could manage. She made him feel guilt in a way few people could dredge up, and it both annoyed him, and left him wondering why she was so damned capable of manipulating him to her own ends without making him even consider turning on her for it. Perhaps he was a glutton for punishment. Perhaps it was training, learning to deal with people that he normally would consider foolish, but were truly wise... Or perhaps he was just too afraid to lash out and hurt her again, because that sad, meek look she wore when he turned on her in anger and spite had struck him more keenly than an arrowhead in the heart._

_She was giving him that same look again, he could see it from the corner of his eye, and it irritated him. He hated when she did that, and he was glad she didn't do it often. She knew how to work him, yes, but she never pushed him beyond his level of comfort. When she had learned his father had joined their forces, she had been initially quite pleased for him, and had urged him to spend some time with the man. One curt "no" had been more than enough for her to realize she was treading on thin ice, and she had respectfully apologized and let the matter lie. It was that patience, that kindness and concern for his feelings, that made him soften, if only because he just couldn't stand seeing her look so damned upset whenever he even so much as raised his voice in anger or disgust. She thought him a good man, for reasons he couldn't fathom, but... She also made him want to be what she thought he was, if only because it wasn't a goal that had no merit to it._

_"I'll look on my way to the training grounds, and I'll fill in any soldiers and knights as I go, then." Felix eventually let out the words in a sigh, and he wondered if he was going soft. The sight of her frown turning rapidly into a brilliant smile was a warming one, which heated his cheeks and made him abruptly start walking off for his goal. He hadn't done it because she asked. He was still going to train, but he could inform a handful of people of the search as he went. That was a token effort, and enough for her, wasn't it? He was doing what she wanted. She couldn't give him that_ look _if he agreed to that much._

_Two warm hands grasped his wrist and forced him abruptly to a halt, and Felix wondered errantly at her strength as she easily pulled him back towards her. However, that proved to mean nothing as those hands changed into a pair of warm arms, squeezing his own to her chest in a facsimile of an embrace she was obviously longing to give to him. His feet abruptly grew roots, pinning him as easily in place as a lance, and his breath and his heart caught at once as he felt her brush up against his side as she stood on tiptoe to press her lips against his cheek. Her voice was gentle and sweet, somehow both a balm and a wild irritant all at once when she murmured with one last, long squeeze, "Thank you, Felix."_

_"I'm only doing it because it's on the way!" Felix scrambled for an explanation as she let him go and stepped back demurely, but her eyes were sparkling and her smile was broad when he glanced at her. She knew exactly what she was doing and that he was lying, but he couldn't well argue without proving her right. Again she had beaten him, and she needed no weapon to do so. He was beginning to understand why Annette had always said Mercedes was likely the most dangerous out of all of them when she was pushed, even though he had scoffed at her five years prior. This healer was more than a match for him. Far more. Perhaps that was why he found it hard to breathe around her, especially when those gentle fingers pressed against his skin. "It's nothing special, and definitely not because I care about some little girl!"_

_"I know, but thank you all the same, Felix." Mercedes allowed as she tried to hide her smile from growing, and she said nothing else as Felix stormed off in the direction of the training grounds without further words. He was muttering under his breath as he went, his pace much faster than normal, but it didn't stop her from seeing the tips of his ears glowing red all the same. She had to stifle a little giggle, despite herself... Normally, she wouldn't have dared to be so bold...but he was too easy to tease, and far too easy to care for. He needed a little gentleness in his life, even if he didn't want it, or thought it was necessary. She was more than happy to provide for him, when he would let her, and such moments were becoming more and more frequent now. Even though it had been war, tragedy, that had brought them together again... She couldn't say she wasn't glad to be back at Garreg Mach._

Mercedes shook her head roughly, bringing herself abruptly back to the present and out of that pleasant lingering of thought that was distracting her from the task at hand. She hadn't seen Felix since, but she knew he had kept to his word as she had seen several knights poking about while on patrol, clearly on the lookout as they went about their business. It was a happy reminder, and one that warmed her face despite it all. She knew it was selfish, indulging in her own wants like this, but she couldn't quite help herself. He needed it... and frankly, she knew she needed it, too. It simply felt better, having someone to lean on, than it felt standing alone.

'Hmm... Alone...' The thought gave her pause, and she turned about to survey her surroundings with a new, sharp eye. The priory she had spent her last few years serving in hadn't had a shortage of orphaned children, but she hadn't been in charge of their care, then. Still, she had learned a few things about the little ones who had had their families torn apart by war, and that knowledge quickly made her realize she had been going about her search in all of the wrong ways. She had been looking in populated places, where business and a constant stream of people could disguise the presence of one little girl, but that was obviously not helping. She hadn't thought from the perspective of a child. 'How often did we find one or two of those little ones hiding away in the chapel because something frightened or upset them...? It's not mischief she's getting into. It must be something else. Or someone would have found her by now...'

Turning on her heel, Mercedes turned back for the sprawling expanse of the gardens, where she knew by experience with the orphans of Remire that there were plenty of hiding places for the young and eager. The great hall and dormitories were too busy to have any good places to hide away properly, but the same couldn't be said outside of the hallways. How often had she and Annette been roped into playing hide-and-seek with the orphans, finding that those little village children were brilliant in finding the tiniest of alcoves to wedge themselves into in order to escape being found?

"Why didn't I think of that earlier...?" Mercedes murmured with annoyance as she hurried back into the daylight, casting a new eye about as she rushed along the paths towards the gazebo and tree-lined walkways. She knew though, despite herself, why she hadn't considered such an easy solution, and it made her chest ache. She had become hardened over these past few years, as much as she had tried to devote herself to healing and prayer. She had never forgotten her archery, or her magic, and when the Kingdom had fallen, she had joined the ranks of those trying to rebel for their freedom. She had fought instead of fleeing, had summoned up her courage and her training, and refused to be anything less than the soldier her professor had made her into. Those carefree days of learning were far behind her now, no matter how much she wished she could go back to them... and that experience had made her forget what a child's mind, a child's innocence, could lead to.

A small, sad smile played at her lips as she continued to cast a wary eye about herself, glancing at each alcove, at each tree, for signs of a child hiding themselves away... Her thoughts continued to run wild, despite her duties, and she wondered at her professor and her wisdom. Indeed, Mercedes realized that _she_ had forgotten, but it was clear that their professor had not. Why else would she make such a passionate case for Dorothea and her children to be housed inside of Garreg Mach, despite the clear risk and drain on their resources? She wanted to remind her men, all of the men, of what they were really fighting for. Of what they had forgotten, in the past five years of continuous, agonizing warfare. The denizens of the Kingdom had not been the only ones to lose everything. Someone, somewhere, had lost something... and it was their duty, as rebels, as knights and priests and nuns... to remember the common good was their true goal, and not simple vengeance.

'She hasn't changed at all... It makes me really believe that she hasn't been awake for these past five years... She's just as she was, before the fall of the monastery... Sad, but understanding... Seeing everything as a whole, and no longer only what lay in front of her...' Mercedes winced, reminded of those sad, distant looks she had caught on her professor's face sometimes during their lessons when she thought her students were too busy to see her. How often had her gaze drifted out the window, pained and longing, for the graveyard where Captain Jeralt was buried? Vengeance hadn't satisfied her. It had given her nothing. She was still without her father, still empty and grieving and torn apart with guilt, and that lesson was still fresh in her mind.

'A lesson she's dearly wishing to impart on all of us, despite it all... She may be our commander now, but she still remains our professor...' Mercedes took in a deep breath as she forced her feet to still as that pain in her chest threatened to overwhelm her for a moment. It was empathy at its purest, reminding her of what her professor had lost, and was struggling with, despite her best attempts to seem otherwise. She had taken on the mantle of command, had put herself at odds with His Highness, and was doing it all without flinching or showing how unsettled she truly was... but Mercedes knew better. She was in pain, deep, true pain, and she was not asking for help when she needed it the most. She didn't want to rely on them, because she had not lived for five years in war. They had suffered enough. She could hold the burden herself.

Her eyes burned, and angrily Mercedes brushed a hand over them to stop the tears from forming before they could fall. It was not fair of her to feel such sadness, or guilt. Not when others were suffering. Was that not why she had turned to the healing arts in the first place? To stop pain? To heal hurts that others simply could not? She had failed too many times in the past... She had promised herself she would not fail again. First with Emile, then with her professor, and Annette... Now she was determined to right her wrongs. She had repaired her relationship with her beloved friend. She had found her professor again. She would find her brother and bring him home... and she would help Felix, as much as he would allow her, because she needed to see him smile. She was tired of failure. Tired of war and pain... She needed to give love, as much as she needed to receive it.

The thought and resolve stiffened her spine, and she took in a deep, cleansing breath before she readied herself to begin again... only to find herself pausing as she caught sight of a familiar back, partially hidden by an alcove that she knew was filled with crates of supplies and the odd wandering stray cat. She hesitated as that familiar head of navy hair tilted to the side, and she bit her lower lip as curiosity got the better of her and forced her to approach in silence. It was strange to see her professor's elder brother in the gardens, and she knew for a fact he was not the type to spend his days off indulging in leisure. He was like Felix in that, preferring to train either his mind or his body in his every spare moment, and she had often found him in the library, pouring over books, if he was not on the training grounds, lance in hand and gauntlets affixed to his wrists.

Now, though, Warin was kneeling down with his back to the garden, clearly occupied by whatever it was he had found amongst the crates, and Mercedes crept closer in silence to see what it was he was doing. She halted in her tracks as she managed to sneak a glimpse over his broad shoulder, and confusion, amusement, and relief flooded her all at once as she realized he had managed to beat her out. A young girl was curled up against the far wall, sniffling and crying softly out of Warin's reach and cleverly hidden behind the crates, and she matched the exact description Dorothea had given her. The scarred mercenary had found her first, and was clearly trying to coax her out of her hiding place to rejoin the others now that he had.

Mercedes bit her lip as she felt the automatic urge to offer aid, and with great self-control she kept herself silent as she stepped to the side and instead listened intently to Warin's voice. His tone was quiet and gentle, surprisingly so, and she wondered at the kindness in his voice. He had never struck her as a rude man despite his blunt words and tone, and she had never once feared him as she knew some of her classmates did. Their professor trusted him implicitly, and had often spoken of the fact that he was a much more complicated man than he looked, and Mercedes had believed her at once. She didn't need evidence. Warin's presence in the monastery alone was enough for her. He lived and breathed for his family, for his sister, and even if his demeanour was brusque and somewhat detached... That did not mean he was devoid of kindness.

She saw that now as she listened to Warin's gently coaxing voice, speaking softly to the crying girl as he knelt at her level to make himself as non-threatening as he possibly could. He knew his appearance was intimidating, knew his scars and weaponry could frighten off a grown adult, let alone a child, and so he worked to make himself look approachable without delay. There wasn't a hint of pride in his manner whatsoever, proof that he only cared about the girl in front of him, and that showed, too, in his voice as Mercedes listened in closely to catch their conversation, "It's all right to feel upset, and sad... Being different can be difficult... but that doesn't mean you're any less than your friends."

"They said I'm ugly. And scary..."

Mercedes flinched at the tear-filled voice that replied, and she immediately remembered what Dorothea had told her about the young one's appearance. She was a victim of one of the border villages, one that had tried to resist the Empire's stranglehold when it had first begun seizing territory in the west. Like any and all of those who had opposed the Imperial troops, they had been met with ferocious and devastating force as a sign of what was to come to future territory who would not lay down their arms and join with the Empire willingly. The entirety of this girl's home had been burnt to ashes, and it been with quiet, painful words that Dorothea had explained that the little girl had suffered horrible burns on her hands and arms from her desperate attempts to dig herself out of her home when it had been set alight. And she had been one of the lucky ones, a survivor, but it made sense that those scars were not a point of pride for her. She was still young, and children could be cruel.

"Your hands are beautiful. Scars and all. They don't take away from you." Warin's reply came smoothly, easily, and Mercedes watched closely as the sobbing little child looked at him sharply, disbelief shining in her tear-filled eyes. It was clear she had been a victim of bullying as well as the war, and nothing Warin was saying was new to her. It had been likely Dorothea had tried similar tactics, only to have her work undone by the children forcing her out because of her disfigurements, but Warin was quick to interrupt the little one's reply as he held out his own hands to show her his scarred palms and knuckles when he spoke, "You see? I'm just like you. I have a lot of scars, too. I understand how it can look to people who don't know what it's like. They think I'm scary, and ugly, too."

Mercedes bit her lip, and wondered. Warin spoke so calmly, not permitting hurt or disappointment to colour his voice in order to not upset the girl, but it didn't make her ache any less for him. Of course he knew how his sister's students viewed him. How almost everyone had to view him. Had not almost everyone, to a man, looked at him like he was some sort of beast when he had returned to the monastery after having spent five years playing dead to avoid the Empire's hunts? He was a patchwork of scars, and bore cold, distant eyes in response to the trauma of fighting without pause for his life for all of that time, and it had made everyone wary of him. He had discarded their causes, discarded any care of the war and those it affected, because he, too, had been discarded by everyone else. He fought for his sister and her ideals and nothing else, and he didn't care who knew it, or how they judged him. He was a mercenary, no longer bound by the archbishop, and he was through with playing the charade of an obedient soldier.

Yet... There he was, hands extended to show a crying orphaned child that he understood her pain intimately in an effort to reach out to her. Kindness no one would have expected, or even dared to think him capable of. It made her chest hurt with the injustice of it all. If only his worst detractors could see him now. How dare the knights call him soulless? Incapable of loyalty, or love? They knew nothing of him. But, she supposed with a wry smile, that neither had she. She had been surprised, hadn't she, when she had first seen him. She had crept in close to listen, wanting to see how he would handle the job of calming an upset child rather than stepping in herself... She was no better.

"You're different, but that doesn't make you scary. Sometimes it's just difficult for others to understand that being different can be a good thing. You're the same as all of the other children here. You just want to make friends, don't you?" Warin continued in that same quiet and gentle voice, not moving an inch forward lest he scared the little girl further and made her decide she wanted to flee. The risk was real as she was still sniffling quietly and huddled up against the corner, but for all her crying, she was intently fixed on everything the older man was saying. Somehow his words were reaching her, and he seemed to know it as he mused in a surprisingly kind tone, "You have friends already, you know. Dorothea is very worried about you, and she's been looking for you. She gathered everyone she knew to search. You're very precious to her. Your scars don't matter to her."

Another sniffle escaped the small child, and she rubbed at her yes at the mention of her caretaker and her concern. Guilt flickered across her young face, and she made a brave attempt to rub at her eyes as she sat a little taller in her hiding place. She obviously was far more bothered with knowing Dorothea was worrying over her than the bullying that had forced her away from the others, and though there was a slight hiccup to her voice, it still rang clear as a bell as she questioned furtively, "M-Miss Dorothea is worried?"

"Very. Do you want to come with me to see her? I'm sure it'd make her happy to know you're all right." Warin extended his hand just a little farther in offer, but did not move from where he was kneeling. He watched the little girl's bright blue eyes look from his neck, face, and to his hand rapidly, and her little chin bobbed as she swallowed down either a sob or a whimper. The fear and shame was still printed all over her face, and it only worsened when she glanced down at her own scarred hands again. The scars of her burns snaked their way across her fingers and palms in large, dark swathes, disappearing beneath her sleeves in what could only be worse evidence of her former injuries. Warin disregarded them entirely, saving his gaze for her face only as he continued calmly, "You don't need to come out right away if you aren't ready, though. I can stay with you, for as long as you'd like."

Mercedes watched as the girl struggled with the offer for what felt like forever, but in the end, she nodded her small head and pushed herself awkwardly to her feet to accept Warin's hand. He pulled her easily over the crates with her permission, settling her back on her feet in one smooth movement before turning her gently back in the direction of the mess hall where Dorothea was overseeing the search. The girl however reached again for his hand, squeezing it between her own before she looked up at him with shy expectancy. Warin offered her a crooked smile before he nodded, and he allowed her to lead him away, grasping his scarred, battered hand like a lifeline as a timid, but growing, smile crossed her face in answer to his accepting hold.

Warin said nothing, merely allowing her to pull him along towards the mess hall, but his keen eyes missed nothing as he spotted Mercedes watching them from a stone's throw away. The healer felt a shameful heat rush to her face as his navy gaze pierced her through like his lance, but there wasn't a hint of judgement or anger on his as their eyes met. Instead he merely offered her a cursory nod, turning back to the young one gripping his hand as she clung to him tightly. Mercedes held her breath, not daring to move or even blink until the odd couple disappeared around the corner and towards the mess hall, and she didn't doubt Dorothea would be a bundle of happy tears and gratitude when Warin showed up with the little girl who had been the cause of such stress these past several hours.

Mercedes folded her arms about herself as she let out a breath, and she wondered errantly if anyone, save Dorothea, would believe her when she explained how the crisis of the day had managed to have been solved. She doubted anyone really would, but the thought didn't matter to her overmuch. It was clear he had done some good and was happy to have done so, and the little girl he had helped would remember him and his words for a long time to come. She chuckled quietly to herself, wondering if his little sister at the least would understand, and also be amused if she was told what her brother had been up to on his precious day off. 'She said he was kinder than he looked, and sounded... I suppose this is just more evidence of that... I think it'll be wiser to keep it to myself, for a little while. I doubt he wants anyone to know he has a soft spot for children...'

The thought made her giggle a little bit more as she turned on her heel and allowed her feet to pull her away from the gardens in a thoughtless fashion. As detached as he wished to look... Mercedes was wise in the way of men who didn't want to interact with the world at large. Warin was not nearly as singular as he wished to look, and it was obvious that his heart had plenty of room to love with. The way he looked at his sister was proof enough of that, but Mercedes had seen similar looks passing between him and a certain Dagdan sniper, when the two believed that nobody was there to see it. It was subtle to anyone else, but Mercedes was too eagle-eyed to miss anything when she wanted to watch.

And she had seen much, in the passing moons, between both her old friends and comrades. War had brought them all together for a common cause, but it had also reignited old flames and interests, despite it all. Sylvain had become something of a buffoon whenever Ingrid was around, and to her eternal amusement, Ingrid was playing it off with a smile, and a hidden sort of glee shining deep in her eyes. Then there was Petra and Ashe, rarely apart and always finding excuses to be the ones to head into town for supplies or information, and even if Ashe was trying his best to be polite and courteous, it was quite obvious Petra's interests in him were far more intimate. Even Professors Hanneman and Manuela had seemed to soften about each other, even if their bickering had picked up in frequency. Their barbs were no longer pointed, and more often their comments came with smiles than scowls, but Mercedes wasn't about to watch those two for too long. Her friends were one thing, but she had more respect for the alumni of the monastery to put her nose into their personal affairs.

'I suppose if this war did one good thing... It brought us all back together. Even if it hadn't occurred... Maybe, we all would have come here as we promised we would, and picked off just as we left... Is that wrong of me to wish, I wonder...?' Mercedes allowed her thoughts to wander, and her fingers errantly reached to trace the polished stone walkways that she threaded her way through without much direction. It hurt, in a strangely bittersweet way, to imagine a life they could have had if Garreg Mach had not fallen, but she dearly wished for it all the same. Annette would not be in mourning with the knowledge that Dedue had lost his life in saving his king, and Dimitri would not have changed to the point where he was almost unrecognizable even to their dear professor. And their heartache was palpable, and it made Mercedes wish her powers of healing could reach past the flesh and to the spirit, even though she knew it foolish.

'I cannot return the dead to life... but I refuse to believe His Highness is yet beyond her grasp... If anyone can break through to him... It will be her. She will return him to how he used to be... I believe that. I must believe it. There's been too much heartache already... and still so much more to come. They need one another. We all do...'

The sounds of swordplay broke through her thoughts, and Mercedes realized with a bit of a jerk that she had absently found her way to the arena. She could hear Felix inside, the sounds of his exertion and his blade as clear as a bell on the silent eve, and abruptly a rush of heat flamed her face ruby. Like a moth to flame she had found her way to him again, and she bit her lower lip with both embarrassment and realization that despite her best efforts, she wasn't able to really reign herself in. Whenever her thoughts strayed she found herself near him, whenever her heart was aching she sought him out for comfort, and despite how much of an annoyance she had to be to the nobleman... He continued to allow her in, time and time again, when she had need of him most.

'Heh... Who is truly helping who, I wonder...?' Mercedes paused as she looked at the heavy doors and continued to listen in silence as Felix continued his training in ignorance of her presence just outside. He had left in a huff earlier, and he had cleaved to his word to spread the news of the missing girl, so she had no real reason to bother him. Interrupting him just to let him know that the lost child had been found would be unfair if he was absorbed in his drills. She took in a deep breath as she buried her own emotions, deciding it would be best to tend to them later before she turned back south and towards the dormitories. She wouldn't be a nuisance. She had done enough of that already.

"Pardon me, milady. Are you perhaps Miss von Bartels?"

"Matritz." Mercedes found herself correcting the mistaken last name she had discarded long ago when both she and her mother had left for the church, and abandoned the Bartel name along with their noble titles. She froze however as she turned and realized who it was she was addressing, and her face almost at once returned to a bright red shade as she understood she had not been the only one to have been listening in on Felix's intensive training. Swallowing down both her embarrassment and shame at her rudeness, she quickly bowed her head as she hurriedly apologized, "Oh, forgive me! I wasn't aware you were here, Lord Rodrigue! It's a force of a habit, you see, my mother and I changed our names many a year ago. Please excuse my rudeness."

"Please, please, there's no need for formality. And forgive me for addressing you improperly. I had thought I recognized you from my son's description, but I had forgotten your name entirely." Rodrigue's smile was easy as he waved away her apology, and Mercedes said nothing as she watched the warmth of his face closely. Despite their great differences in personality, Felix greatly resembled his father, especially when he showed his rare smile. The older lord bowed his head in return, his bearded face broadening in a warmer smile as he greeted her a little more carefully, "You _are_ Mercedes, then, yes? The young lass my son spoke of?"

"I am." Mercedes nodded in assent, and she wondered at the fact that the lord of Fraldarius had bothered to remember her name, regardless of the fact that she and Felix had grown so close. It also made her marvel at the revelation that Felix had spoken of her to his father, especially considering the knowledge that the two of them were barely on speaking terms at the best of times. It was true that Felix had returned to his territory during the outbreak of the war, and had been fighting beside his father to defend his people from the Dukedom, but she hadn't assumed that he had ever spoken of her to him before. It made her cheeks redden and her stomach clench as she began somewhat hesitantly, awkwardly, as Rodrigue looked her over with careful, searching eyes, "F-Forgive me, but... Your son spoke of me?"

"Frequently, when we did speak, at any rate. I'm aware that he can be... boorish, at times, for lack of a better word, but he only ever spoke highly of you when he mentioned his time here at the academy. I believe you made quite an impression on him, if his eagerness to return to Garreg Mach at the date of the Millennium Festival is anything to go by." Rodrigue explained with a low chuckle, and he watched with those same sharp eyes that his son possessed as Mercedes bowed her head awkwardly in a futile attempt to hide the darkening red in her face. He was not surprised by her reaction, not with all he had pieced together over the past five years, but it amused him all the same to see it... Hadn't his son had the exact same look on his face, even when he was explaining hotly that he wasn't leaving for a "promise with a dead woman" but rather to make sure that _someone_ didn't end up hurting themselves on the way to the monastery? It was very clear now who that someone was, and Rodrigue shook his head as he mused with another laugh, "I had been hoping to meet you, at least once, now that I and my men have joined with the rebellion's troops."

"I-I see... Felix is... a very good friend. I was glad to hear that he had been fighting alongside you, these past five years... and I was also glad to know that you were well, when Professor spoke of you and your allies joining our efforts." Mercedes chose her words carefully as she spoke, unsure of what exactly was proper to say when Felix was so close by, and his father was chatting with her so idly. It wasn't as if Felix had warned her to keep her distance from the man, and she doubted that he ever would issue such a command to her outright. He had said once and only once he wasn't interested in speaking much to him himself, and Mercedes hadn't wanted to push the issue. Now, however, she was treading on foreign territory, and she wished to both respect Felix and his father, but was unsure of how to do so as she murmured, "Felix was also relieved to see you had been doing well without him."

"I believed so, though he wouldn't ever say it aloud. My son always has much to say, but most often it is not to me. Still, that is my fault, and burden to bear as a father." Rodrigue nodded knowingly, and he watched as Mercedes offered him a small, shy smile at his words. It was a gesture of comfort, and Rodrigue was slightly surprised by how quickly and freely she was willing to give it to him. He was a stranger to her, yet she didn't hesitate to offer kind words or a smile, and he nodded to himself as he understood just how it had been her of all people who had managed to slide underneath his son's shields of sharp words, and even sharper actions. "Ah, but I forget my manners... I know that you know of me, but permit me to introduce myself. I am Lord Rodrigue, of Fraldarius. Felix is my son. I must thank you for taking care of him in my absence. I am aware that both you, and Professor Raine, have done much for him in your time in the academy, and now, in forming of the rebellion."

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Rodrigue... but I'm afraid I cannot accept your thanks. Our professor took care of all of us... Anything you see in Felix is due to her influence, and not my own." Mercedes shook her head as she offered a kind smile, and she wondered just what else Felix may have said to his father to make him think she had such an impact on his son. She knew it was her professor's doing, that the former mercenary had touched all of them in their single year underneath her guidance, and she refused to take credit for her effort. All of them stood there today because of her, and because of their own iron wills. "We were blessed to have her with us, that year. And we are again blessed that she returned to us, against all odds."

"Your professor is a very singular creature, that much is true..." Rodrigue agreed with a nod, and he touched his chin thoughtfully as he wondered on the woman he had only managed to have a handful of short conversations with. She had struck him as a strong-minded young thing, brave and loyal, yet also quite kind and empathetic, and he had seen her influence easily on both his son, as well as the young prince back in their student days. Now she had acquired a harder edge, the chains of commanding were a harsh burden to bear, but she wielded them willingly, and with an iron grasp. She took to the task as naturally as anything, but her kind spirit hadn't dampened. The fact that she had demanded that the orphans from the Empire be given sanctuary within Garreg Mach had been a divisive move, yet Rodrigue could not help but agree with her when she outlined her reasoning so fiercely. "However, I believe that contributing everything to her is doing you, and the rest of your classmates, a disservice. After all, it was alone that you all made your way here, was it not? That takes courage and will that only you can draw upon from yourselves."

"But we were inspired by the courage and will of another." Mercedes pointed out with a growing smile, and she saw from Rodrigue's second nod that he wasn't entirely unwilling to discredit her argument. It felt somewhat strange, sharing what was a casual chat with a nobleman who was far ahead of her in stature and in age, but Rodrigue didn't seem to think of her as any less than himself. His tone was courteous and his demeanour friendly, as if she was simply a friend he wanted to speak freely with, and she appreciated his frank kindness. It was different from any behaviour she had ever seen from a grown nobleman, but she certainly was not about to complain even if she wasn't entirely sure how to handle herself.

"Indeed you were... but I still will say that I believe it was _you_ who inspired Felix, for the most part." Rodrigue once again gave her his agreement, but his eyes were twinkling with a youthful sort of merriment that made Mercedes feel even more heat cresting in her cheeks. Just how much had Felix spoken of her back in his home territory? And what had he said, to make his father look at her as if he knew everything without needing to ask such intrusive questions? It didn't matter, however, as Rodrigue seemed far too polite to make such inferences directly, and instead he only continued with a thoughtful nod, "Mind you, I will indeed give the professor credit where it is due. She has done very well by the Blue Lions, and by my son. I owe her my gratitude... but I also owe Felix's friends my thanks for standing by him when things were at the most dire. It has been a difficult time for all... Which means your influence on my son warrants all the more gratitude."

"Th-Thank you for saying so, Lord Rodrigue..." Mercedes looked at her feet, unable to hold that knowing, gently amused gaze that saw right through her and made her far too embarrassed and self-aware. She knew her own heart. She always had. But seeing that someone else knew it, too, and was not judging her lacking, but rather praising her actions and the emotions that had spurred them... She wasn't entirely sure whether it flattered or horrified her. She tried her best to shove it all down, at least for the moment as she reached for a safer topic blindly and asked, "Are you here to speak with your son?"

"No... I'm afraid that would be a waste of both of our times. It is difficult to get a word in edgewise with the boy when he has a sword in hand. I was merely passing by to see if he was well." Rodrigue's smile flickered, changing from gentle to sad and regretful, and Mercedes felt her heart throb in response to it. It was a look of a guilty and remorseful man, one who was aware he had stumbled, but also was aware that the time for forgiveness and reconciliation had long passed him by. It hurt her to see, for both him and for Felix, but she knew it was not her place to intervene. Felix had made his stance clear. She would not go against him. Thankfully, Rodrigue did not linger on the topic, but instead cast a glance about him at the knights who had resumed their post since he had last looked, and he waved a gloved hand idly as he remarked, "I had heard of a ruckus involving a lost girl, but it seems to have calmed down now. In fact, I had heard it from a passing knight, who had told me my son had informed him of the matter. I was ready to give my aid, as I had some spare time, but it seems I'm too late."

"Oh, yes... She was found, thankfully. I imagine she's with Dorothea again now, safe and sound." Mercedes fought a smile, and she thought longingly of Dorothea's commitment and her ability to love so freely and so warmly. She was a natural with her children, acting all the part as a mother hen, and Mercedes wondered if she would protest an additional hand in the work. She admitted she wanted to know more about their plights, to know more about how to lend her own aid, even if she was only a commoner and a healer, but she couldn't quite help herself. It was simply in her nature to want to provide and care for.

"Good. Those poor children don't need more fear in their lives, especially now that they are wards of the church. Your professor made a wise decision bringing them here and offering them shelter... It's a reminder of the old ways, that we've lost in our time as soldiers... Of our true goal, beyond the war..." Rodrigue remarked slowly, and Mercedes looked up to him sharply at the words that her professor had spoken when she had made the announcement of Dorothea and the orphans being welcomed refugees in the halls of Garreg Mach. She had stressed the importance of the gesture as a return of the Church's true function to give her decision weight amongst the most pragmatic, yet Rodrigue did not seem too bothered by that line of thought. His words were softer, gentler as he spoke of the children, and he shook his head as he sighed, "If, and when it ends, there will be many more of them to look after... It is wise to remember that the future we seek will not be an easy one to tread, if we find victory. Starting now is a firm reminder of the reality of this war, as well as a firm reminder to the church that the new hands on the reigns shall be much more tight."

Mercedes blinked, and this time she couldn't help herself as she turned slightly to take Rodrigue in with new eyes. She had heard the stories of the nobleman beside her. A ferocious fighter, a dear friend of the former king, and a keen tactician with a calm mind and a sharp wit. She did not know if he was devout, but she did know that he had always been welcome in the halls of Garreg Mach, and held tightly to his virtues as a knight. To hear him voice support so openly of the change of leadership within the Church of Seiros was of great interest to her, and she tilted her head slightly as she questioned as politely as she possibly could manage, "You support the professor's control of the Church of Seiros, then?"

"I am not sure I would go as far as to say that..." Rodrigue allowed after taking a long moment to drink in Mercedes' words, and appreciate her bluntness. Most would not have dared to ask him outright of his thoughts, especially of such a thing that still was a cause of great debate amongst the most devout of the church... but he supposed his position as a nobleman of the Kingdom allowed him to stand aside of those things. He chose his words carefully, understanding he was being studied, but also aware that the young woman's loyalty was to her professor first, and the church second when he spoke, "The direction she is pointing the church in is indeed one that is needed... Both pragmatically, and ideally. The church is greatly diminished with the loss of Archbishop Rhea, in both power and influence. To rebuild it from the ground up, following your professor's beliefs in charity, is not a thing anyone would really argue about in such times... but it is clear that this is not a duty that she is taking to willingly. She is not a believer, herself, even if she was personally appointed to lead the church by the Archbishop. That alone will cause rifts, as will the shifting of power... but that may change, when Archbishop Rhea returns. It seems clear that your professor does not intend to hold onto this power when the war ends."

Mercedes was silent, and she knew that Rodrigue spoke the truth. Her professor has no desire for power, and even less for leadership. She was only doing what she had to because the burden had been forced on her shoulders, and even then, she was doing her best to spread out the weight amongst her fellow commanders to prevent her from being made into a figurehead. She had no interest in the spiritual aspects of the Church of Seiros, and was merely acting pragmatically in order to cover her empathy. She would never have sent away Dorothea even if she was not in charge, but holding the power Rhea had given her and given her an opportunity to use it to her advantage to shift the focus of the Church of Seiros in a more favourable position. It was a gamble, for certain, but it was one the professor was willing to make if it meant doing good.

Rodrigue tilted his head slightly to the side, then hid a small, wry smile as he heard the sounds of swordplay behind the great doors to the arena beginning to slow. He had spent too much time dawdling there, wondering and hesitating, as always, but he supposed it had not been too much of a waste as he again glanced to the young woman standing next to him. He had been eager to meet her, this healer that had both vexed and charmed his son, and he was grateful that he had stumbled upon the chance. Still, he could not linger, even though he wished he could. Her presence was a balm, her kind wisdom a rare sight, and he understood full well why his son was drawn to her. He offered her a half-bow, forcing calm politeness to his voice as he began regretfully, "Ah, how the hour grows late... I've kept you too long. My apologies, my lady. I imagine you had your own deeds to be attending to before I interrupted you. If you see my son, please pass along my regards, if that would not trouble you overmuch."

"Oh, of course..." Mercedes shook her head to clear away her errant thoughts and brought herself back to the present, and she offered a curtsy in answer to Rodrigue's display of courtesy. She was still unsure what exactly it was this man made her feel, as she saw Felix in every inch despite their complete difference in demeanour, but she was well aware that was not something she could ever speak aloud. It was best she tread carefully regardless of his charming nature and kind words, as she was still a commoner at the end of the day, and he a distinguished knight and nobleman. The differences between them were far too vast to be bridged over a simple conversation and a connection to Felix, and she returned his smile with some effort as she replied gently, "Have a good day, Lord Rodrigue."

"And you as well, Lady Matritz. May we speak again soon. Perhaps over a cup of tea, next time." Rodrigue offered her another smile before he was turning about and making his departure back for the war room. He was well aware that the professor and Seteth were likely there again, embroiled in one of their long, serious discussions of the future of their army, as well as their next move. He had not come to Garreg Mach simply to provide and watch over the men he had given to the rebellion, and though he was not sure he was welcome, he still wished to give as much aid as they all were willing to take. It was what Lambert would have wished, and though his old friend was long gone, he had no plan to break his promise to the former king. He would take care of Dimitri, and those who valued him and were valued by him in return... Until the young prince was capable of remembering that the weight of the dead did not need to be cold and cruel.

Mercedes watched as Rodrigue left, chewing her bottom lip with a mixture of confusion and wonder at the offer he had left ringing in her ears. A cup of tea? With Felix's father? She could only imagine how outraged the swordsman would be if she dared to accept such a wild invitation. Yet, it also made her redden sharply with understanding that Rodrigue was very aware of the nature of her relationship with his son if he was making such kind overtures. It wasn't entirely an unpleasant thought, but it was a somewhat frightening one. She hadn't been thinking to the distant future, there was no real time for that, and she wasn't entirely sure she was ready to do so, either. That day seemed too distant, and too out of her reach. There was a war to fight, before she could even begin to think of a future in peace.

"If you stand there lost in thought for any longer, someone is going to end up having to pick you up off of the ground when you inevitably get knocked over."

"Felix!" Mercedes felt herself jolt right out of her skin at the swordsman's voice suddenly speaking just behind her, but as soon as she tried to turn around, two strong hands grasped her shoulders and held her immobile with impressive ease. She struggled only for a moment, confused, but when his fingers gave a warning squeeze, she stilled her movements at once. He was not gripping down tightly enough to hurt, only enough to keep her still, and she wondered if he had overheard her conversation, and was angry about it. The thought made her wince, and she looked guiltily at the ground as she asked after a long, tense moment of silence, "Did you... overhear?"

"I've no idea what he's up to, playing nice with you, but I suppose it doesn't matter. Ever since I came back from the academy, he was incessantly nagging over the people I had met. He took a special interest in you. I guessed he'd eventually track you down when he came here." Felix's voice was flat, but there was no edge of anger to it, nor to the hands that were still holding her firmly where she stood so she could not turn and see his expression. Rather, his hands seemed to gentle, and she felt him step closer to her before he continued on in that same, errant tone of voice, "But it doesn't matter. I don't dictate who you can and can't talk to. If you want to accept the old man's invitation for a cup of tea, that's your business. Now, why are you here? Did that little orphan girl get found?"

"Yes, she did." Mercedes answered immediately, and she had to hold herself back from leaning backwards into him as she felt the front of his chest brushing against the back of her dress. He was close... Too close. It wasn't like him to allow her to be that near unless she initiated, and he rarely was the one to step up first. He seemed to be content to let her lead the pace, if there was a pace to be led, but now she felt herself floundering uncertainly. He seemed dismissive of the fact that he had overheard her talking with Rodrigue, and instead wanted to know about her initial errands, and she knew her confusion was obvious in her voice when she explained somewhat hesitantly, "I... I'm not entirely sure why I came here, to be completely frank. I was lost in thought, and before I knew it, I... had walked myself here."

"Were you looking for me?"

Mercedes closed her eyes and fought a reflexive shiver as Felix's mouth came dangerously close to her ear when he asked her bluntly what she had been doing. The heat in her face travelled south quite abruptly, only making her more aware of those strong hands on her slim shoulders, and the weight and strength of him standing behind her. He had leaned in to prevent their bodies from touching, but that didn't matter overly much. When his breath touched her earlobe, she shivered and bit her lip, and the truth came out thoughtlessly even though she knew she shouldn't, "Yes. I was looking for you."

"You're too focussed on everyone else... It's high time you focus on yourself for a change." Felix turned her abruptly about, and Mercedes came stumbling at his strength and speed despite herself. He caught her effortlessly against his chest, with one arm winding tightly, supportively, about her waist before his other arm reached upwards and his hand caught her chin. He tilted her head up, his dark, adust eyes blazing as he gripped her chin tightly before leaning down, "You came looking for me. Let me give you what you wanted."

His mouth covered hers in a harsh, fierce kiss, and Mercedes heard herself gasp before even that was being swept away as his hand caressed her cheek and then moved to tangle itself in her hair. He was rough yet gentle, holding her close to him even as his tongue parted her lips to slide in to taste, caress, and claim. Against both her better judgement and sense, she felt herself leaning into his chest, hands grasping at the front of his cloak as her eyes fluttered closed against his sudden display of passion. This was new, new for the both of them, but he didn't seem at all unnerved or off-balance. Rather, he seemed oddly impatient, and it showed as his hands grasped down tighter on her svelte form, and his breath came ragged on her lips when he finally pulled back to ask her gruffly, "Was that enough?"

"E-Enough...?" Mercedes repeated his last word dizzily, unsure of his meaning as she glanced up at him through dazed eyes. Her fingers had curled themselves tightly into his cloak, and she doubted she could release her hold on him even if she wanted to. He was holding her too tightly to make it an option anyway, which only made her wonder what he meant, and what had spurred him to act in such a manner. It wasn't entirely unlike him, he was always frank and to the point, but this kind of intimacy was still new. He had accepted her chaste kisses before, and they had happened more than once, but this was different in a very new, and very pleasant way... but still, she didn't wish to misinterpret him, or have herself misinterpreted again when she asked breathlessly, "What do you mean?"

"You keep coming around me whenever you're getting tired of all the work you do. When you get worried, when you've had enough, but don't want to look it, or show anyone else. I noticed. You want to be selfish, but you don't know how to ask. You need to learn." Felix's explanation was blunt and brusque, but the look in his eyes had softened slightly, as had the hand that was cupping her face as she looked up at him in mute wonder. Her cheeks had turned the colour of rubies and she looked somehow both ashamed and thrilled by his words, which only made him all the more confident that he had chosen the correct course of action. "Let me make it clear, and be aware I'm only going to say it once. Whenever you want something, just ask for it. I'll give it to you. Anything you want, whenever you want."

Mercedes wasn't entirely sure what she felt more, joy, or shock, to hear such words coming out of Felix's mouth. His eyes were steady, as were his hands, though there _was_ a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks despite it all. They weren't words he was saying lightly. He wasn't the type for japes, especially ones like these, and she knew to trust his word implicitly. Yet... She pulled away, despite how eager her hands felt to reach for him and hold him tightly. She couldn't ask him for more than she had already. He had endured enough of her misplaced longings, and even if that misunderstanding was behind them... She couldn't in good faith ask for more. "That isn't necessary, Felix."

"Your answer just proves that it is. You spend so much time fretting over others that you don't bother to fret over yourself. If it weren't for me, or maybe Annette, too, you'd collapse on a daily basis. This is my attempt to start taking care of you. Properly." Felix's reply came quick and sharp, as keen as a swordstroke, and Mercedes' felt her face fall at the argument she couldn't quite deny. She knew he was right. Why else had she found herself there in the first place if he wasn't? Still... The hesitation was clear on her face, and Felix beat her to speaking as again his hand grasped her chin, but far more gently this time as he angled her face upwards so her eyes would follow and focus on his when he spoke, "You said you wanted to be near me more from now on. I didn't argue. I'm still not arguing. But if you want to keep staying near me, you need to allow me to watch out for you just as much as you watch out for everybody else. And if it makes you feel better, this isn't an offer I'm giving away freely. Stay by me. I'll take care of you. You can even be selfish every once and awhile. I don't see why you wouldn't accept. Unless you don't want me."

"I do want you!"

The moment the words slipped out, Mercedes knew she had lost. The wolfish look on Felix's face only proved it. She had stumbled so easily into his trap that she may as well have walked into it with full knowledge that it was there. Her face burnt red, but this time she felt no shame. It was impossible to, after what she had just said, and with how utterly smug Felix looked to hear her say it. His thumb brushed over her lips, still swollen from his kiss, and she looked at him silently, not about to deny it and knowing better than to even try. His expression softened as her eyes held his, gentle, warm, longing, yet almost sad... and his voice was quiet when he explained simply, "I want you, too. This is _my_ selfishness. So be with me for awhile, Mercedes. We can look to the future when that time comes. Our future, if you want to share it."

"I didn't know you could be so much of a cheat..." Mercedes leaned forward, resting her face into his shoulder as her arms reached of their own volition to wrap tightly about him. He twitched in surprise at her movement and her words, but he didn't seem ready to protest. Rather, he seemed to be holding his breath, waiting, and she was glad to hide her smile against the warm, rough fabric of his cloak as she sighed and surrendered. He had won, again, and moreover... He was right. She wanted to be selfish, even if only a little, and if it was with him... Then it didn't feel too bad to do so. He was offering, after all. "All right, Felix... I accept... but I hope you realize your offer goes both ways. Whenever you want or need anything... I'll be here."

"I know." Felix felt her nuzzle his shoulder gently, letting out a quiet, tired sigh as she did so, but he felt no concern. Her arms were tightly wound about him, and her fingers were buried in the thick cloth of his cloak. She wasn't about to let go, no matter how guilty she may have been feeling about her acceptance of his offer. In any other circumstance, he may have enjoyed it, hearing her give way to him so honestly, but there was no room in him for that. He simply wanted to hold her for a little while, to allow her to take her time in his arms as she sorely needed. Anything else could come second. Would come second. If she would never treat herself first... He would take up the gauntlet, and gladly. He could do that much for her, when she had done so much more for him. So, he stood quiet and composed, arms cradling her svelte form close and his chin resting on her hair... It would be fine. He'd make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Long and rambling, and not really what I intended to do, but I am satisfied by it nonetheless. There wasn't exactly much plot here (I intended to write some, but it got lost in the shuffle) but for those looking for plot, don't worry. There's going to be a whole bunch of chapters in a row purely dedicated to it. The entire sequence with the bridge is going to span at least three chapters, and Grondor is going to be a spectacle all on its own... That bit, (the bridge, especially) is where my "changes" to the route will begin. Mind you, they will start small, and may not look like much at first glance, but I intend to make a tidal wave of Azure Moon. So much needed reworking, and since I'm on this kick, I intend to fix what I can while keeping it all in the realm of possibility. (Or believability, I guess?)
> 
> Anywhosit. Everyone who guessed Lindhart was with Lysithea gets a cookie! Congrats, you lot! Mind, it's not like it was a difficult puzzle, but still... I really wanted to make it clear that while the Black Eagles (for the majority) will not be joining with the rebellion, that they have their own lives and attachments that they are still holding onto and influencing them. Unfortunately, with my focus being on the Blue Lions, I can't quite dive into that like I would like to beyond the odd comment. It's sadly a lot like the game itself, being locked out of the loop depending on your path, and AM is sadly one of the two routes that suffer the worst for this. (CF being the other, but that's more for lack of content and closure.)
> 
> I won't be leaving a long AN, as it's five am and I'm exhausted and in sore need of sleep. Thank you for reading this far, and I apologize for the rambling and the disjointedness of this chapter. Hopefully the next few make up for it. Drop a review should you feel the need, and have a good one! See you again soon!
> 
> Mood: Sore
> 
> Listening To: "Face My Fears" - Utada Hikaru (Kingdom Hearts 3)
> 
> ~ Sky


	6. Siege

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: Hurt/Comfort, Action/Adventure, Angst. (T)
> 
> Characters: Raine, Dimitri, Dorothea, Gilbert, Ingrid, Sylvain, Annette.
> 
> Summary: The time for the attack on the Great Bridge of Myrddin had finally come. The preparations had finished, and now the men and women of the rebellion stood upon the field, awaiting the order to march and begin the battle. For a brief moment, Raine stood back quietly, listening to the tense talk of her students and allies as they understood just who it was that all stood before them in preparation to defend the bridge, and the route into the Empire with their lives. It would be a bloody battle, they all were aware of that much, but it still remained to be the first of their many steps to taking the Empire down. Their wills would have to prevail, even if their hearts would hesitate.

**Lone Moon**

**The Great Bridge of Myrddin**

**Early Morning**

"Status report."

Shamir's curt, brusque voice was welcoming, and Raine turned to see the Dagdan sniper, with Warin at her side, ready to deliver her report on her scouting of the bridge from the previous night. They had sent their best and brightest to explore the bridge and its defences before their assault, at Warin's terse insistence, and Raine hadn't found a reason to deny them. Gilbert turned in unison with her, interest furrowing his brow, while Dimitri remained solid and silent, leaning against the wall of the bridge's entryway as his hand clasped his lance tightly in preparation for the upcoming fight. Raine nodded to Shamir, keeping her own voice brisk despite the heavy weight she had been feeling ever since they had begun the march south, "Yes?"

"The flags of Aiger and Gloucester are flying. The two eldest sons are on the field, along with an assortment of their men. Our initial assessment was right about who had been placed here." Shamir replied, and she folded her arms about her waist as she noticed the look of sympathetic pain flickering across Raine's expression at the confirmation she hadn't needed, but still was glad for. Behind her, that brown-haired singer from the Black Eagles noticeably winced, looking down at her hands, before Petra reached out to gently place a comforting hand on her shoulder. Ignoring this despite feeling a mild prickle of annoyance for Raine's decision to allow the Black Eagle to take the field, Shamir continued on as she knew it was her obligation to do, "The army we face is mostly made up of calvary, though their general is riding a wyvern. The two noblemen are directly to the west of us, via a short and small channel, but the bulk of the forces are further south covering the majority of the bridge. We've also seen Demonic Beasts amongst the men."

"And their numbers?"

"Double ours, by a rough approximation. Perhaps double and a half." Warin was the one who spoke this time, and he absently flexed his fingers as he rolled his shoulders back. His expression was calm and controlled despite the bad news he was delivering, but Raine well understood why it didn't daunt him. They had all faced much worse odds before, and he was confident in his ability, as well as the ability of the men and women they had brought alongside them to take the bridge from the Imperial forces. Still, he wasn't about to simply underestimate the soldiers they were to be fighting, and he understood the value of information better than any as he continued on, "There are two strongholds we'll need to capture to stop the flow of reinforcements from below. One will be to our immediate south. The other is guarded by the two nobles. Those strongholds should be our first priority."

"Agreed... All right. The eastern channel will require more subtlety than strength. I'll take a token force with me to handle it... Dorothea, you, Ingrid, Sylvain, and Annette alongside me should be enough for that. Go inform them and bring them here, please." Raine's mind spun quickly, and her orders came quick and efficiently. She heard no argument despite Dorothea's obvious pain and anxiety, and the younger woman was quick to hurry off back to the bulk of their forces to deliver her orders and bring the requested soldiers forward. She was not at home on the battlefield as the others were, she had put it behind her too long ago, but Raine didn't mind her jitters at the moment. Instead she turned towards Warin, continuing on smoothly, "As for the south... Warin, take the majority of our men and clear it. You're in command in my absence... but remember my orders."

"As you wish, Raine." Warin had no objections despite the look of clear dislike that passed across Dimitri's face at Raine's firm, unflinching command, and he wondered if she had spoken so directly to him to provoke such a reaction from the future king. Warin already knew Raine wished to take control of the bridge with the fewest casualties they could manage, she had told him as much when she had been outlining the bare bones of her strategy for capturing the location, yet she had made sure to voice it aloud for all to hear anyway. She was testing the limits of her authority, testing her soldiers for their obedience and loyalty, and he had to admit he was worried about how far she was pushing both herself and her men. However, he didn't allow for that to show, not yet anyway, and instead he remained calm and professional as he questioned, "Shall I muster the men?"

"Yes, and inform them of my orders. Pass along my message to Rodrigue, as well, if time permits. As for the rest of you, follow Warin and ready yourselves for what lies ahead." Raine replied firmly, and she was both glad and relieved when Warin passed her with nothing but a nod of consent, with Shamir following after him like a shadow. She wondered if they noticed that they were not nearly as subtle as they were trying to be, at least to her eyes, but that was a thought for another day as the rest of her assembled soldiers followed after the scouts to begin their preparations. She was left alone with Gilbert and Dimitri in a handful of moments, and she allowed herself a quiet breath as she mused, "More men than anticipated, along with Demonic Beasts... This will be a struggle, but it _is_ doable."

"Double, triple, or even multiply it by the dozens... Their numbers do not matter. They will all fall here like the mad beasts they are." Dimitri spoke dismissively, and his hand tightened on the hilt of his lance almost with anticipation as his one eye slid across the battlefield that lay ahead with the hint of an icy cold smile playing about his lips. He was eager for the fighting, for the bloodshed, and it showed in both his posture and expression as his smile broadened and became more apparent. It would be as easy as exterminating rodents, especially now that he held his ancestor's Relic in his hand... This would be no battle. It would be a slaughter. "We will cleanse this bridge of them, and soon enough, all of the Empire will follow."

"The wanton slaughter you're after isn't an option here. I told you once before, I will not permit it." Raine cut him off harshly, and her voice was cold with tightly leashed anger as she turned on him with flashing eyes and tight fists of her own. She had anticipated this, his bloodthirst and his willingness to leap into the fray with blind delight, and she had already made the preparations to keep him at a tight heel. Warin didn't have his brute strength, but Rodrigue did have the ability to force Dimitri to listen, and if he disobeyed any direct orders, Warin had already been given the explicit command to take him from the field by brute force if needed. She wouldn't permit a rampant slaughter of the enemy forces. Any soldier who offered surrender would be taken at their word, and chased away before they were killed. She had already given that order behind his back long ago. "You might think them animals, but the same isn't true for all of us."

"I doubt that. What would you do, if you saw the people who stole everything from you? If you saw them right before your eyes, living carefree lives, and feeling no guilt? Would you feel nothing? Do nothing?" Dimitri's arms crossed over his chest as he turned to face her, and he felt her glare like a hot flame piercing his skin as she returned his cold stare without once flinching away. She had found a spine somewhere since their last talk, facing up to him without fear or regret, but he doubted that she was as stern and unflinching as she wished to appear. No, he _knew_ she was not, and he was out to prove it as he stabbed at that one weak point he knew she was still cradling all too tightly to her chest despite her lack of interest in it in her daily life, "Five years ago... Did you not deem the woman who killed Jeralt to be unforgivable? I recall that you most certainly did. You were unable to allow her to get away with her crime, and with your sword in hand, you took up the pursuit."

Raine felt her hands beginning to curl into fists as a mad wave of rage and grief washed over her at the mention of her father, but she forced her body to still. As quickly as the emotions had come, they faded, and they were replaced with something much heavier, and much more poisonous to her heart. Yet she cradled it close all the same, and her eyes found the ground rather than Dimitri's face for a moment as she allowed the truth to sink in. It was not as if she had not thought of it. She had many a long night to muse on it, on her father, and though it made her entire body ache with pain... She would not refute Dimitri's claim, and she admitted as much with a slow, sombre shake of her head, "You're right."

"Precisely my point. We're the same, you and I."

"No. You misunderstand me. You're speaking of Kronya. That isn't who I set out to kill that day. That wasn't who I was chasing with my sword in hand." Raine interrupted him as she heard that smug, self-righteous tone in his voice, and again she felt that mask, that hateful mask of the Ashen Demon falling onto her face to disguise her emotion. She pushed it aside with an anguished effort, refusing to hide the truth from him when he was daring to compare their actions. It was _not_ the same. It was _not_ as simple as he wished it to be, and she would not allow him to think otherwise. She didn't care that he was watching her with a furrowed brow, angry at her dismissal when it had seemed he had finally broke through, nor did she care that Gilbert was still watching their fencing of an argument in keen silence. None of that mattered whatsoever, and she spoke quietly, but clearly as she explained for the man in front of her, "I don't blame Kronya for my father's death. She isn't the one I deemed to be beyond forgiveness. That woman was myself. It wasn't about her. It never was. It was _me_. On being unable to forgive, yes, I will agree that we are the same. On _who_ we blame? We couldn't be more further apart."

Dimitri halted, and his eye narrowed as Raine stood quiet but calm in front of him, without an ounce of a lie in her voice or in her expression. Her eyes were dry now despite the pain that shone in them, and the guilt was pure and unable to be denied. She spoke the truth. She didn't blame Kronya at all for the death of her father. At least, not anymore. All of that guilt and rage and loathing had been turned inwards, had been buried in her chest like a dagger that she had plunged there herself, and even he could not deny that was the truth of the matter. She hated no one but herself for her father's death, and she had no plans of extending her rage to those outside of it. Kronya and Solon were dead, both by her hand, yet that hadn't sated her. Edelgard and Thales still lived... but she had no blame to lay at their feet, either. No, instead she blamed herself, and she would continue to do so, long after the war ended, and he knew it.

Gilbert watched closely as Dimitri's face twitched, obviously struggling to absorb her words and all that it meant when it clashed so ferociously with his own worldview. His hand was trembling on his lance, proving the depths of his disturbance, and Gilbert felt a crest of worry urge him into action. He had chosen to be a silent witness when they had begun to speak, knowing it was not his place to intercede in such a deeply personal conversation, but it was obvious that the tension between Dimitri and Raine had grown to a near breaking point. He did not want to see what would be the outcome of all of that tension breaking free, and concern forced him to speak as diplomatically as he possibly could, "Professor-"

"No, Gilbert. I don't want to hear any comforting words from you. He made the comparison, and he deserves to know he's off-base, even if he's partially correct. I stand before you as I am. A murderer, an orphan, and a woman wholly at fault for the death of her father. I have accepted this, and I will carry it to my grave, as I must." Raine again cut off the interruption she had expected, but her eyes never flickered over the tangerine-haired knight. Instead she held Dimitri's stare, taking in the troubled glint in his cerulean eye, but feeling nothing but scorn, disdain, and that pulse of sadness for all he had lost and become in her five year absence. She could do nothing but give him the harsh truth of her reality, in vain hope of making him see that his way was deeply flawed, but she had given up hope that he would listen to reason. It didn't stop her, duty forced her to speak, but she still doubted the words would penetrate his dark veil as she continued firmly, harshly, "But I will _never_ blame those who were not there, and did not hold the dagger. My loss was my failure. I earned the punishment. The people here have not. The whole of the Empire are not my enemies, even if the soldiers standing here today are. I will not dole out judgement rashly, or without cause. Anyone who chooses to surrender, or to switch sides, or to flee, shall be given the chance at life. Because the people here did not commit the Tragedy of Duscur. Or Remire. Or the fall of Garreg Mach, or the death of my father. They are soldiers, men and women who are fighting for their homeland, or for their own survival, and they deserve a chance of redemption even if that chance has long since passed the likes of us by."

Silence followed her declaration, cold, uncomfortable and tense silence, and seeing that no one was fit to reply, Raine simply turned on her heel and left the two men behind her. She couldn't bear to stand there, feeling the weight of their stares on her shoulders, when it was taking all she had to hold up her head and not collapse where she stood from the guilt and the pain. Jeralt was dead, and though it had been five years for them... It had hardly been a handful of moons for her. His loss was still fresh in her mind, his body still warm in her arms, and she hadn't had the will or the strength to visit his grave ever since her return to Garreg Mach. How could she? When to her, he was still freshly buried, and she hadn't had those five precious years to mourn, and to begin to heal?

The scenery about her blurred, and Raine cursed as she paused in her retreat and dashed a hand angrily across her eyes. Now was _not_ the time to be lost in emotion and crying. When this accursed battle ended, perhaps she could hole herself up in her quarters and weep for her lost years and her lost father, but that was not something she could think about now. Her students needed her to lead, and to lead well. If she allowed her emotion to overcome her better sense, she would be putting them all into an early grave. She would not allow it. Taking in several rough, deep breaths, Raine forced the grief and the pain down, shoving it into a small, ironclad box she could open later as she stiffened her spine and forced her face to wipe itself clean.

"Professor! We're here to report for duty!"

The effort came none too late as she heard Sylvain's voice calling for her over the din of her preparing men, and she hastily took in another breath before wiping her face clean on her sleeve. She turned in his direction, glancing over the following women who were at his heel. Everyone save Dorothea looked well and truly prepared for what was to come, but she could not blame the young singer for her hesitation now that she was on the battlefield. It didn't matter that she had been the one to approach her with this request. Now that the time had finally come, she was sick with uncertainty and fear, and considering who it was she was to face... Raine truly could not blame her in the slightest.

She still remembered clearly how Dorothea had approached her that day when the news had broken about the possibility of Ferdinand being on the bridge, and while she had done well in showing courage and defiance... There was still that broken undercurrent of her tossing aside her vows of pacifism. She had to take up sword and tome to be on the battlefield, even if her end goal was not to kill, but rather to save. It was one thing to face her fears in theory, another entirely to be there in person, now preparing to take a life with the weight of her weapons in hand... and it was that display of courage, courage mixed with heartache, that had made Raine eventually give in despite her better judgement.

_"Is it true?"_

_Raine looked up from the map she had been previously pouring over at the sharp voice that had interrupted her work, and she felt little surprise as she watched Dorothea sweep into the room, completely ignoring the fact that she had a captive audience in Rodrigue and Felix as she marched over to Raine's seat in a flurry of anxious movement. The older woman carefully slid the map she had been examining with the help of Rodrigue out the way as she met Dorothea's eyes, and though she was already aware of what would bring the singer to the war room of all places, she still wasn't entirely pleased to see her. She had been dreading this particular confrontation, as she had known it was bound to happen sooner rather than later, but now that Dorothea had come to confront her... She had to admit she wasn't entirely sure she felt ready for it._

_Both Rodrigue and his son were silent, expecting her to handle it as she had made it expressly clear that no one in all of Garreg Mach was to give Dorothea and her children anything but space and charity since her arrival a moon prior. It made her rankle with annoyance, especially considering Felix was never silent unless it was outright demanded of him, but she knew this was only another of many of her duties to fulfil, and it was that thought and that thought only that permitted Raine to keep her composure as she folded her hands in front of her and replied calmly as she looked up into Dorothea's anxiety-ridden face, "Is what true, Dorothea?"_

_"Is it true that you've ironclad confirmation of the fact that the armies of both House Gloucester and House Aiger are to be guarding the Bridge of Myrddin?"_

_Raine winced, and she bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from scowling as she wondered how those two pieces of information had escaped the doors of the war room in record time. After the utter disaster that had almost gotten the lot of them killed in Ailell, Raine had made it a priority in seeing that such information concerning the rebellion's next move was to be divulged only to those she and the other handful of commanders in the rebellion deemed pertinent in the future. Yet here Dorothea was, a non-combatant and a woman who had made it personally clear she wanted as little to do with the goings on of the war effort as possible, with that information in hand and clearly upset about it. She glanced over her shoulder to the father and son behind her, but both could only look at her with a mixture of confusion and uncertainty in reply. They, at least, had not been the ones to open their mouths, and she believed them on expression alone before she turned back to the singer who had come to confront her personally._

_Rubbing her temples for a moment, Raine didn't answer immediately before she sat herself up straight so that she could look Dorothea in the eye. She wouldn't lie, even if she was unhappy of the fact that the monastery's walls clearly has too many holes in it for her liking. And worse, she understood exactly_ why _Dorothea had chosen to abandon all thoughts of decorum or keeping herself on the sidelines when she had heard exactly who it was would likely to be facing down the rebellion troops at the moon's end. It couldn't be something she was digesting easily, and it made her anxiety understandable, but Raine was forced to keep a calm composure she didn't truly feel before saying quietly, politely, "Felix, Rodrigue... Can you please leave the room for a moment? I need to speak to Dorothea privately. We can continue our discussions afterwards."_

_Rodrigue hesitated, clearly uneasy with the order, and Felix just shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he made for the door without much argument. He knew that tone his professor was using, it was not one that brooked discussion, and he wasn't interested in trying her obviously quite frayed patience. No amount of wanting to see the resulting showdown was worth pricking his professor's temper, and he knew it wiser to step out of the way rather than argue just for his own amusement. His father clearly was not as aware of this as he was, as he did not move and instead spoke up slowly, "Professor, perhaps I-"_

_"You better quit while you're ahead, old man. This doesn't concern you. Let Professor deal with it." Felix called from the doorway, though he wondered why he was bothering. Even if he wasn't interested in seeing his professor have it out with Dorothea, it would be leagues more entertaining to watch her dress his father down. He supposed it was Mercedes' influence, though he didn't want to admit it. She had been badgering him constantly since his father had showed up alongside his troops to try and get along with the man, and while he had no interest in being cordial... He didn't want to hear her continuing to scold his ear off, either. It made him brusque as he waved a hand and gestured to the hallway, "She'll call you back in when she's done. Just leave it alone."_

_Rodrigue looked to his son, and then to the professor uncertainly as a heavy silence filled the room. There was a palpable tension that he did not quite understand, but as he looked to the angry expression on the young woman's face... He decided it was likely best he heeded his son's warnings. He was not entirely sure what it was that was going on between the two, but clearly it was a personal affair that he had no business overhearing. He did not know the leader of the rebellion well, but he did know she was obviously a woman not easily trifled with, and he had no desire to overstep his boundaries by disobeying a direct order. He nodded his head, offering a half-bow before he excused himself quietly, "Professor... I shall be waiting for your call to return."_

_Raine waited until both of the two nobles were gone, with the heavy click of the door shutting behind them signifying their departure before she turned back to Dorothea. She waved a hand idly, gesturing to a nearby chair in invitation for her to sit, and it took a few moments before the former Black Eagle gathered herself enough to take it. Her hands were trembling as she gripped the front of her dress and curled them into tight fists, and Raine let out a tired breath before she began quietly, "I'm not about to ask how you know what you know, but I will say I'm extremely annoyed that after the catastrophe at Ailell that our commanders clearly haven't learned their lessons about keeping important information secret... but I'm also not about to lie to you. Yes. What you're asking is true. We've confirmed that both House Aiger and Gloucester have troops stationed at the Great Bridge."_

_"Do you know who's leading those troops?" Dorothea's question was cutting, though she was also aware she was stepping her toe over a boundary she herself had drawn. Raine's expression was chillingly neutral, but her eyes were sharp and scanning her extremely closely. She was not sure if she was about to be reprimanded for demanding more information, especially when she really had no rights to it, but once she had heard the whispers... It had been impossible to stop herself from going straight to the professor for confirmation. She needed to know. She wouldn't be able to rest until she did, no matter if the answer was one she wished for, or was dreading. She could not help it. "Have they seen anyone in command?"_

_"No, they haven't... but we can make educated guesses. Which I imagine is why you're here." Raine's answer came slowly, quietly, and she shook her head as she reached to rub at her temples where she could feel the faintest traces of a headache beginning to make themselves known. Even if she wanted to ignore the obvious, there was no way she could. The only ones leading the forces of the two noble houses had to be the eldest sons, even if the Prime Minister of the Empire had been stripped of his title and lands five years prior. His son was still in service to the Emperor, and his loyalty rewarded him with a soldier's position, even if the powers he had wielded as a noble had been taken from him and held hostage. She didn't need the rebellion's scouts to tell her who was leading. She already knew, and she knew Dorothea had reached that same conclusion. "There's little doubt in my mind that both Lorenz and Ferdinand will be leading their men in defence of the bridge... And I understand why that must be a pressing issue for you."_

_"I want to come. When you take the bridge with your forces. I want to join you."_

_Raine had known it was coming, but she still felt her stomach sink somewhere into the floor and farther below as she looked Dorothea in the eye and saw the stubborn determination shining in her expression. She meant it, every word, but it was all the more reason for Raine to pull back and away from it even if she understood exactly where the singer was coming from. The request made sense, when she took it from a purely personal standpoint, but she could not afford to make decisions on such things. She had to be pragmatic, had to be calculating, and she shook her head as she replied bluntly, though not entirely unkindly, "Dorothea, you know that I can't allow for that. I feel for you, but if I bring you to the front, you must understand how that will look to the rest of the troops. You came here with the sole purpose of being a non-combatant. Changing your mind because a fellow classmate will be on the enemy lines... You understand how that will look to others, don't you? I might know your reasons, but the others will not. And any idea they've had of obeying my orders when it comes to leaving you and your children alone won't last if you take to the field."_

_"I don't care what they think of me. I need to be there. If Ferdinand is really going to face you all... I have to try one more time to convince him to lay down his sword. I must." Dorothea shook her head, eyes blazing as she understood exactly where Raine was coming from even as she shook it away in the next moment. Her pride, her safety... Nothing mattered in the face of what she was realizing was coming. In a short handful of weeks, the rebellion would be marching on the bridge... and she knew they would succeed in wresting it away from the Empire's control. They were stronger than they were before now, bolstered with the troops Rodrigue had provided, and their willingness to fight far outmatched any standard Imperial soldier's desire to defend the bridge. They would hold their ground and fight to the last, yes... but they would lose, all the same. She couldn't permit that to be the only route left to Ferdinand. She simply couldn't. "I may be able to get through to him this time. I have to try. What if I can persuade him to stop fighting? Isn't that better than simply killing him outright without giving him the chance to reconsider his actions up until now?"_

_"Dorothea, you_ did _try. You made every effort you could, and he still chose to stay in the Empire five years ago." The words tasted like bile on her tongue, bitter and acidic and making her body shudder, but she knew she had to speak them all the same. What Dorothea was requesting of her was madness. She wanted to put herself at risk, with no guarantee of success, without thinking of the full consequences of her wish. What if she failed? What if she succeeded? Neither of those outcomes promised anything that Raine was equipped to deal with. Dorothea being present to see the death of her friend... or worse, somehow managing to convince him to lay down his sword, only to make him a traitor in the midst of a battle where the men at his back would sooner ram a lance through his shoulders when he abandoned them for the enemy than follow his example to stand down...? She shook her head again. It was far too dangerous a hope. Far too dangerous a scenario for her to entertain. "What makes you think that now your words will get through to him?"_

_"I don't know!" Dorothea felt herself explode without consent or thought, and though a small part of her knew it was unjust of her to be doing so to Raine of all people, she still could not quite help herself. Too many emotions had been bottled up, and too much was being forced to go through her mind all at once. She knew she had to sound mad, and she knew she likely was, but it didn't change the feelings of obligation and guilt that were choking their way about her chest. She shook her head hard, hands clenching until they began to tremble as she balled up the fabric of her dress in her fists as she continued, "You're right, maybe it won't help, but... I can't just sit here, knowing that you'll be marching to fight, and do nothing! Even if it's just for my own selfish sake... Even if I fail... I won't be able to live with myself if I don't try one last time!"_

_Raine waited for Dorothea's breathing to settle and for her temper to return, and she could tell the singer was glad for the pause as her tense body relaxed, and then her shoulders sagged. She slumped in the chair, seemingly exhausted by her outburst, but Raine admitted she didn't so much mind taking the brunt of it. This was different than anything else she had done so far, and Dorothea's reasoning was not something she necessarily disagreed with. However, that was a personal matter and not a pragmatic one, and she knew which side had to win out on such matters._

_She pressed two fingers to her temples, watching Dorothea closely before deciding to speak, and when she did, she chose her words as carefully as she possibly could. She needed to be distant, professional, yet she also didn't want to sound cold or uncaring. It was a difficult balance to make, but she fought for it all the same as she began slowly, deliberately, "Dorothea, think of the logistics of what you're asking. First, I have to bring you onto the battlefield... and you'll be called to fight. I can't protect you, or keep you away from the bloodshed. You will be forced to take up a weapon and protect yourself, and make yourself useful for our goals. Can you fight again? Can you kill your countrymen to protect yourself, to get to Ferdinand, who will most assuredly be leading from the frontlines? And can you kill_ him _, if he chooses to ignore your pleas, and tries to kill_ you _, because you're standing with the forces of the rebellion? Unless all of your answers to this are yes, a yes you mean without an ounce of hesitation or uncertainty, I cannot allow you to join us. You'll be too much of a liability, and a liability is not something we can afford."_

_The questions were swordstrokes, but they were not cruelly spoken. The sympathy in Raine's eyes lessened her hurt, but it could not banish it entirely. She knew the professor was right to point out what she hadn't thought of initially, yet she was somewhat surprised to find that she didn't care as much as she had thought she would. The idea of picking up a blade again was abhorrent, but... the thought of staying behind, quiet, demure and useless, while those who housed her and her children without question fought with Ferdinand... That hurt far more. She shook her head and took in a deep breath, steeling her nerves, steeling her stomach, as she met Raine's piercing stare and replied quietly, "If my answer was yes, would you take me with you?"_

_Raine closed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from replying on instinct and not with her better sense. It went against her natural desires to say no to such a heartfelt plea, but she was no longer a simple professor catering to the relatively harmless whims of her students. No, those days were far behind her now, even if they were still so close in her memory. She couldn't act freely. It simply was not within her bounds to do so. Her decisions impacted many more people now, and they required approval from others in similar positions of power. She was leading, but she wasn't leading alone, and she knew that wariness showed on her face as she answered tiredly, "You'd need to let me think it over before I could give you a concrete answer, Dorothea. At the very least, I'd have to consult with Seteth and Gilbert to have their approval. You'd likely need to make a case to them."_

_"Fine. If that's what it takes, I'll do it. Gladly."_

_"Be careful what you wish for, Dorothea... Be careful what you wish for."_

That warning now was echoing in Dorothea's ears, Raine could see it clearly, but she decided it was best not to speak up as her four chosen soldiers crowded about her in anticipation for her orders. Over their heads and behind she could see Warin mustering the rest of their forces for his assault on the southern half of the bridge, and she was glad for his steadiness before she returned her attention to her students. All of them met her eyes unflinchingly, ready and willing, and she offered them a small, tight smile at their obedience and kindness, despite the pressure of the situation they were in. Their confidence in her was a balm to her wounds, and a much-needed one, and she turned a little to point to that tight hall that Shamir had spoken of as she began without preamble, "That is our route, and our goal is just beyond that. Unfortunately, that means no mounts, Sylvain and Ingrid, and I apologize for that... but I think you understand why I prefer you on foot, yes?"

"A bottleneck... I see." Ingrid spoke first with a nod, and she tilted her head as she glanced at the winding passage that permitted entry into the depths of the bridge that served as both a means of transportation, and a fortress all on its own. It was a travel passage, one not meant to take the brunt of an invasion, and yet their professor intended to use it just for that purpose while the mass of their forces created an opportunity for their movement. The blond knight smiled knowingly, impressed as always by her professor's keen intuition, but she turned back to her all the same as she questioned, "You believe that the enemy will force their mounts through anyway?"

"Calvary has an advantage over infantry forces by sheer speed and movement, and it will be an advantage they'll be loathe to give up, especially against a small force like ours... Professor is right. On foot, we'll be able to force a bottleneck much more easily than if we were mounted." Sylvain spoke up before Raine had to, and she smiled to herself at his quick insight and the intelligence she had always known he hid under his poor charm. He was a strong student as well as a soldier, but he rarely allowed it to show since it did not benefit him in the ways he wanted. But those days were far behind him, and now he was acting as his true self, free from his former insecurities and hatred, and now determined and settled in himself as he continued with a nod, "And with Annette and Dorothea behind us, that gives us even more of an advantage... I'm all for it."

"But we aren't here to kill, remember, Sylvain? That's not why the professor chose us to come this way." Annette reminded him firmly, and though her voice was quiet and her concern apparent for her comrades, her eyes were hard with determination as she glanced to Dorothea, who had been silent since coming to fetch them. Though she knew she was not as close to the young Imperial singer as Ingrid or Petra were, her heart naturally went out to her all the same when the situation had been explained to her in as much detail as Dorothea had been willing to give. She reached out kindly, taking Dorothea's hand firmly in her own as she continued on, "We're here to convince both Ferdinand and Lorenz to lay down their arms. It might mean cleaving a way through their forces to get to them, but we aren't going to kill anyone if we can manage it. Those are Professor's orders."

"They are. But I also won't be asking you to risk your lives to carry out mercy. If you must kill to defend yourselves, then do so. This is still war, and our enemies will not have the same compunctions as we will for taking lives." Raine corrected Annette gently, and she looked to each of them to both take in their expressions, and to show her own to them in complete honesty. Ingrid was avoiding her gaze, obviously troubled, but she quickly stilled herself in a show of professional stoicism. Her future king's hatred was her hatred, but she was not blind to her orders, nor was she the type to disobey. She loved her homeland more than she valued unquestioning obedience, and even if it meant sparing an Imperial soldier to do her duty... She would do so, if the situation permitted, because she understood the cycle of revenge and bloodshed would continue if she waged the war her king so dearly wished to wage.

Sylvain had proven himself a simpler man, wishing to only be pointed in a direction and not mull over the specifics of the situation, but his empathy would not allow him to act so casually. He felt Ingrid's unsteadiness and her worry, and he acted naturally to provide her comfort. He reached for her shoulder, giving it a light, careful squeeze for all of a few seconds before he dropped his hand again respectfully. A battlefield was no place to be working his charm, for all the good his charm ever did him against Ingrid of all people, but he couldn't help the desire to try all the same. Annette's words rung true enough for him, the pragmatism was something he understood, but he also was well aware it would only make the fighting all the more difficult for them. It was harder for them to fight leashed than it was to fight to kill, and that was something their professor knew, yet still she had given them those orders. Whether it came from belief in their skills, or her own idealism, he wasn't quite sure, but he knew better than to argue with her now. She was wiser than him, and he respected that wisdom.

Dorothea however bowed her head, her hands tightly clasping each other as she bit her lip and remained silent. The looks that had passed between the foursome were of no comfort to her. They were battle-hardened, soldiers, and the difference between her and them was stark. Even Annette, the sweetest and kindest of the lot had seen her fair share of war, and she looked just as ready as the two knights were to throw herself headlong into battle without even a moment's hesitation. She wondered where their bravery came from, their ability to fight without regret, but she had long ago realized she was simply a different breed from them. Still, the guilt lingered, and before better sense could kick in, she found herself murmuring, "I'm very sorry... This is all because of my selfishness..."

"That's not entirely true, Dorothea." Ingrid broke in before Raine had a chance to, and both surprised and intrigued by the blond's immediate defence of her friend, the eldest of the group stepped back in silence to allow her to continue. Ingrid had the most difficulty with her orders, having suffered more than Sylvain and Annette had during the breaking of the Kingdom, and she took personal injury to all Dimitri had suffered at the Empire's hands. She had made that all expressly clear, and hadn't been afraid to voice her objections when she had first received her orders, but now her expression was calm and almost kind as she turned to Dorothea and explained gently, "It's true that you're here for Ferdinand, but Professor's orders of mercy are not only for your sake... There's pragmatism at play here, too. You weren't at the council, so you didn't hear her outlining her plans, but sparing soldiers, convincing Ferdinand and Lorenz to lay down their arms... It isn't just for your wishes, it's also for the good of the war."

"But how can that be? Even if we somehow manage to convince Ferdinand to betray the Empire... What good will it do if he joins the rebellion? His men likely won't follow him... Edelgard stripped his family of their rank and territory, as well as all of the soldiers that were once loyal to his house. The forces he commands are Imperial soldiers with no loyalty to him." Dorothea frowned as she wondered at Ingrid's confidence, and she glanced over to Sylvain and Annette in hopes of finding an answer in their expressions. Sylvain was grinning in his professor's direction, but she was shaking her head at him in exasperated amusement, while Annette returned her confused look with a comforting smile. This only served to make Dorothea more puzzled, and she wondered at what she had missed as she looked to Raine and asked, "What are you hoping to achieve?"

"A sorely needed advantage, Dorothea. Lorenz is a noble, but his loyalty has always been first and foremost to the Alliance. Just like Ferdinand with the Empire. That is why they're both here today." Ingrid explained patiently as Raine looked to her with a small nod, giving her silent permission to continue on. They had grown more secretive in their war councils now ever since the disaster in Ailell, speaking only in closely guarded quarters, and keeping word tighter to the chest than ever. But Raine clearly trusted Dorothea to be let in on the finer details she had been keeping secret even from the likes of Dimitri and Seteth, and after having been informed of her schemes... Ingrid could well understand why. The risks were high, higher than Seteth would ever agree to, and Dimitri simply would never permit Raine to reach beyond their own forces that had already been tried and trusted to his satisfaction. She was playing a dangerous game, but the payoff, if it succeeded, was well worth it, and Ingrid knew it, and trusted in her as she explained, "If we can use that loyalty to our advantage, if we can convince them to turn their coats here and now... We'll gain an ally that gives us both a potential key to more allies, as well as an unexpected advantage for our next battle."

"An advantage for your next battle?"

"If we continue to march towards Enbarr, we'll be taken through Grondor Fields... And it's very likely Alliance forces will be coming to defend their territory, as the Imperial army marches to repel our invasion. Three armies clashing, just as it was five years ago... If we allow things to continue as they are." Raine explained with a roll of her shoulders, and her eyes flickered as she glanced over her shoulder to see the men Warin had amassed now preparing themselves for the signal for the initial rush. She had made all the calculations already, planning several steps ahead despite how many times she had been warned to look to the next battle and the next battle only so not to get distracted... But Raine refused to be so callow. Edelgard had won handily five years prior because she had been fighting a war long before they had known one was even in play. She would not have such an advantage again. It was their turn to flip the tables, and the script, on the former Flame Emperor. "I don't intend to have a replay of the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion... but more I can't say, until this fight is over. Too many factors are still in the air. But, should we succeed, and my plan plays out as I hope it does... Edelgard will find herself without the upper hand, in very short order."

Dorothea furrowed her brow, but quickly decided it was best she say nothing else. Raine didn't seem willing to discuss it further, either because she didn't trust her with the details, or because she was worried speaking her plans aloud would somehow lessen her chances. Regardless, Dorothea decided it didn't matter. She didn't want to know the details of Raine's scheming for the war... All she cared for was bringing Ferdinand back to Garreg Mach safe and sound, even if he was unwilling. She would do anything and everything to keep him alive, to bring him home, because she simply could not bear the alternative. "Very well... Forgive me for delaying us. As I said... I know that I am not as skilled as all of you, but I will do my best today for you. I owe you that and more for ceding to my selfish demands. Today, I'm a soldier once more, under your command, Professor. Any order you give... I will follow."

"I appreciate it, Dorothea. But I will try to keep you out of the fighting to the best of my ability, at least until the time comes when Ferdinand appears... For the moment, hang back, and focus on healing. Annette can handle any long-range tactics we'll be in need of. Don't push yourself past your limits, simply because you feel you must. You'll only be a liability otherwise." Raine reminded her gently, and she was glad to see that Sylvain, Ingrid, and Annette showed similar kindness and empathy with nods, a squeeze of a hand, and reassuring smiles. It was why she had chosen them for this mission and no one else, because they would all understand and obey without question, and she needed that loyalty more than anything else today.

The booming of a war horn sounding broke through the silence, and brought a grim smile to Raine's face as she heard the roar of soldiers following quickly behind as Warin and Rodrigue began their move. It was met immediately by shocked cries and angry shouts of enemy combatants racing to their posts and hurrying to engage, and it was exactly the signal she had been waiting for. Though their mission of clearing out the bridge was indeed the most important part of their entire foray, for Raine, they were simply one large distraction for her and her group. She reached for her blade, reassured by its weight and that familiar pulse of warm, quiet power that surged up her arm from where her flesh touched the cracked hilt. She turned to her group, who watched her in expectant silence, and she nodded once in reassurance.

This was home. This was where she was at her best, regardless of everything else that troubled her or caused her grief. She felt the weight of the monastery and leadership and politics falling away, and leaving her with her old instincts of her mercenary past, and her professor's wisdom and love for her former students. Her sword was light and familiar in her hand, and her body felt spry and lithe despite her earlier exhaustion and worry. Nothing else mattered but the battle ahead, and here, she was safer than she ever could be wandering the familiar halls of Garreg Mach. She knew her renewed confidence showed in the gleam of her eyes and the way her sword rested in her hand, but she cared little for the transformation. There was work to be done, and her father's reassuring words of her being a mercenary born were echoing comfortably in her ears.

"Let us begin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> A word of warning, that was posted once before, but must be repeated again... I hate fight scenes. I hate writing them more than anything else in the world. However, this is Fire Emblem, and a fic about Fire Emblem without fight scenes is kinda like writing about water without ever mentioning that it's wet. I get it, and I'll do it, but I will be bluntly honest with you that is not my forte, and it probably won't look very good no matter how hard I'll try on it. I apologize much in advance for the dip in quality the next chapter is going to take because of this, but please be noted that I didn't half-ass it. I worked my best on it, and I am truly and deeply sorry if it just does not stand up to my usual quality.
> 
> So, here's where things start changing up a tad in Azure Moon. I won't exactly explain what Raine's schemes are, since that takes away from the fun of the future chapters, but I'm wondering if anyone knows what she has in mind here? I will say Grondor is the biggest hint in this chapter, but what about Grondor will be left to your imaginations. There are three (but sort of two, since one point leads into the other) key points in AM that are going to be changed, as I don't intend to follow AM to the letter, and Grondor is one of the areas where most of this change is going to occur... I wonder if anyone can guess where these changes are going to occur? No prizes this time, since that means you might be able to guess at my endgame, but do try anyway! It amuses me! XD
> 
> I also need to stop staying up so late to write. Why is it that the bug always hits the worst when I'm supposed to be sleeping? I'll never understand it. My muse apparently is as nocturnal as I am, and it's super not healthy. I already have insomnia problems. I don't need to make it worse by staying up in front of a laptop and tapping away until my wrists start begging for mercy... I'm masochistic, aren't I? Oi vey... I should go to bed.
> 
> Anywhosit! Thank you as always for reading this far, and please drop me a review should you feel the need. They are my lifeblood after all, and I always feel so energized and excited to keep writing whenever I get that alert in my inbox. Every little thing counts, you know. Even the smallest, "Good job!" makes me feel so good, and so thankful to you guys. You all keep me writing and my spirits up, you know. And I owe you all big for taking the time out of your day to read, or review, anything I work on. I hope you have a good one, and I'll see you again next chapter!
> 
> Mood: Bemused.
> 
> Listening To: "Ring Your Bell" - Kalafina (Fate Stay Night, Unlimited Blade Works ED)
> 
> ~ Sky


	7. The Way of the Noble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: Action/Adventure, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, War. (T)
> 
> Characters: Raine, Lorenz, Marianne.
> 
> Summary: Their reasons for fighting were similar even if their homelands differed greatly, but it was those similarities that proved they would clash relentlessly on the battlefield. The bonds between house and comrade, friends and lovers, and soldiers and students would all be tested on the Great Bride of Myrddin, with the single, lonely hope that some of the bloodshed could be quelled through words rather than the ringing of blades or the screech of magic.

**Lone Moon**

**The Great Bridge of Myrddin**

**Noontime**

Whatever they had expected of House Gloucester, Raine had to admit that this had not been it. To have been halfway through the passage, easily crippling every soldier that came their way, only to be met head-on by the eldest son himself, dismounted and alone... It had given all pause in both wonder and suspicion. They all were well aware that despite his pomp and desperate attempt at charm that he was deceptively intelligent in both the way of the knight as well as the politician, and it had been with that in mind that Raine had quickly motioned for her students to stand behind her as she took the lead. Lorenz had approached them alone, with no sign of his men following, and his weapons were sheathed... for the moment. It was not an ideal time for a parley, not with the roar of the bridge in the throes of battle surrounding them, but even Raine knew the significance of Lorenz' motions deserved pause.

So she gave in to decorum as she stood between him and her students, eyes alight with both suspicion and wariness as she gripped her blade down tightly until her knuckles whitened. He stood between them and their goal at the end of the passage, but to shove him aside was out of the question. He was one of the two targets she had planned to intercept on this path, and to have him come to her was both a boon and an unfortunate turn of luck. Still, it was obvious in his demeanour he wished to speak and was waiting to see if she would do him the courtesy, or would engage him on sight. She did not sheathe her weapon, but she did motion for her four waiting soldiers to stand down before she spoke curtly, firmly in greeting, "Lorenz."

"Professor. It is quite unfortunate that all these years later, that we are to meet in such circumstances again. I am truly regretful." Lorenz answered her with a deep nod, and as Raine watched him closely, she could tell he meant every word he spoke. He was not a man prone to falsehoods, even if he did prefer to flower his language and his mannerisms until he looked like a fool. Still, now was not the time to underestimate him based on memory from five years prior, and his stance and choice to meet them unmounted was proof of it. He had confidence in himself as a soldier, confidence born of experience and not youthful arrogance, and she was well aware he could see her sizing him up as well as he was doing the same to her and her men. "I am, however, glad to know that your sense of courtesy has not waned. I am grateful that you would give me this moment to speak to you frankly. I am here alone to ask for one last courtesy, if you would be so kind."

"And that would be?"

"A duel. Between you and I. No others. Not your students, nor my men. They are under _my_ command, and not that of my father's, you understand... This business between the Empire and Alliance is not of my choosing." Lorenz explained with a deceptive sort of calm despite the quiet wrath simmering in his eyes, and Raine cocked her head to the side as she watched him even more closely. His anger was well-hidden, proof that he did not agree again with the methodology of the head of his house, and it was again forcing him to deviate from all social norms he had perfected with both hard work and natural grace. He was behaving as a nobleman, or at least his ideal of a nobleman, even as he rejected his father's side in the war, and it showed as he continued on, "I stand before you now as myself, with only the wish of seeing the men under my command spared should you fell me. I am a man of the Alliance, and this civil war the Empire has begun, using my house as a figurehead, is not at all what I wish to see befall my homeland. Duty, however, compels me to remain at my father's side. Duty, and the risk of my life and all I love. My choices are limited. Should I fight you, and lose, I will have fulfilled my duty."

"A clever way of abandoning the war and saving your men at the same time... I can respect that about you, at the very least." Raine admitted with a nod, and she wondered errantly when Lorenz had chosen to put his words into action, or if he had simply always been this way, and now was having a chance to demonstrate that he was not all talk now that the war was raging. It saddened her, knowing that such an honest young man was willing to put his life on the line for his ideals, his men, and his homeland even in what could be seen as supposed treachery. Yet, that, too, was noble in its own way. Still, she had to be pragmatic, especially as she heard the quiet, unhappy muttering of her students behind her, "Still, what you offer, I can't give you the same. You're a wise man. You know this bridge must fall for the sake of the rebellion. Your offer means little, regardless of the outcome of the duel. Or have you already admitted defeat, and are hoping just to spare your men the same fate as the rest of the Imperial troops?"

"You are a wise woman yourself... Yes, indeed. I am aware that the forces here cannot withstand the might of your army... Defeating you in single combat, while hefty, will not change the outcome of this battle. Even if I were to kill you, I would not last the day. Your men would execute me summarily for my victory. You are right in saying my offer means little." Lorenz admitted it without the bat of an eye, both surprising, and impressing Raine at his blunt honesty, and his full understanding of the situation at hand. He was not dreaming of the best outcome. There was no point in it. An honourable duel did not guarantee an honourable outcome. That was simply the horrors of war that he had been forced to come to terms with, both in his days at the academy, and on the battlefield for the last five years. Still... He needed her, needed to know she would listen and understand, and it forced him to press with an urgency he did not wish to display, "I have told my men of my plan, and though they are unhappy with me to say the least, they will not disobey my orders. Still. Patience will only last so long, especially for those who are duty-bound to their lord. So I ask you again, Professor... Will you grant me the privilege of a duel, and the promise of the lives of my men?"

"No. I won't grant you that. If you wish for a duel, and wish for an outcome in your favour even when you lose, then I have the right to ask the same of you." Raine's answer was quiet but not cruel, and she almost winced as she watched Lorenz flinch and stiffen at her rejection, and her following words. Disgust flickered across his face, and she knew she had earned his reaction, but she kept her face smooth and devoid of emotion in answer. She couldn't permit him to see her empathy, or her wounds... He would not fight wholly if she allowed him to know how much this simple exchange was hurting her. She continued placidly, aware of the time pressing down on her shoulders and the chance quickly trying to slide through her grasping fingers, "I'll only grant you a duel if you'll concede to my demands should I win, just as you demand I should if you lose. Fair is only fair, Lorenz. I cannot waste my time without the promise of something I sorely need."

"What is it you demand, then?"

"There's no point in telling you now. Draw, and fight me. If I win, give me your word you'll give me what I ask, and I promise you the lives of your men." Raine ignored his question, and she lifted her sword to further emphasize the fact that she was done talking. She didn't let her eyes stray from him for a moment, gauging his reaction closely, and she was satisfied when she heard him let out a quiet breath, along with the softest whispers of a curse. He reached over his shoulder, sliding his lance free of his belt, and at the sight of his arming himself, she spoke curtly over her shoulder without letting him out of her sight, "Ingrid, Sylvain, Annette, Dorothea... Not a move, and not a word. You stay where you are until this ends. There will be no interference, regardless of the outcome. That is an order. Understood?"

"Understood. But that order only lasts as long as you live." Sylvain answered for them all, his voice cold and his eyes harsh and unyielding at his professor's back as she steadied herself into that familiar stance she always had when she was preparing herself for battle. He did not doubt her prowess, nor did he doubt that she was more than capable of felling Lorenz where he stood, but he also was not foolish enough to not prepare for the worst outcome. He knew Annette at the very least would never doubt her professor for an instant, but he was far more jaded... and for more pragmatic. His voice was icy as he continued, his hand gripping his lance so tightly that his hand begun to tremble, "The instant you fall, Professor, don't expect us to continue to obey you. We'll honour your promise... but that's as far as it will go. Anyone who hurts you will pay. Duel or no duel."

Raine bit the inside of her cheek to force herself not to smile, and she looked at Lorenz almost apologetically as he glanced from Sylvain and then back to her with a look of honest surprise. She could only manage a slight shrug, trying not to look pleased with the answer she had been given, especially considering how utterly morbid it was. She wondered why she felt such a way. Perhaps it was the unwavering support and belief, the loyalty and honesty, when that morning she had spat at Dimitri, who she had always considered her best student. Now the Blue Lions as a whole were rallying behind her, all providing what Dimitri no longer had the capacity to give, and it reminded her of just how _good_ it felt to be loved. She offered Lorenz a small, sad smile before explaining weakly as her sword spun as easily in her hands as a quill in preparation, "Forgive my students, Lorenz. It seems old habits die hard."

"There's no need. You have always been a woman who inspires loyalty. It was only poor luck that you did not lead our house. I would have dearly enjoyed a chance to learn at your desk... but those days are long gone." Lorenz answered with a forced sort of cheer, and he was aware that his regret truly did run deep. He had full and honest respect for Professor Hanneman, who he knew had joined with the rebellion when it had first begun in Garreg Mach, but there was just something different about her. She was not a noble, nor was she pious, yet she commanded attention and love and obedience all the same from anyone who crossed her path. He was not sure if it was her honesty, her compassion, or her talents that had managed to charm so many, but it did not matter now. He hefted his lance easily, narrowing his eyes as he steadied himself and gave the last words he could speak before they would lock weapons, "I thank you for the opportunity to cross blades with you now... and forgive me for what I do."

No more words were needed, nor could they be given as the two sprang for one another. Raine was faster and closed the distance between them first, and it was only pure instinct that saved Lorenz from her opening slash as his lance lifted sideways to catch her blade across the middle. As quickly as she had closed she was gone, leaping away and out of his range, and with quiet anger Lorenz was reminded that she had spent the better part of her lifetime duelling with lance-wielders. She knew exactly how to fight someone with better range, and it wasn't as if her sword was incapable of tripling the reach of an average lance.

Yet... Not once did she attempt to extend her Relic as they crossed blades again. She fought him as if she was using a simple steel blade rather than the fabled Sword of the Creator, and Lorenz wondered if it was out of honour as a mercenary, or simply because she had not yet had an opening to use it. She kept out of his range, testing him time and time again with stabs and slashes that he was forced to parry or knock aside, but still she kept her sword as it was. It both angered and surprised him, that she was not fighting to her fullest capability, but he knew better than to allow either emotion to impact his work. She was a mercenary still, even after all these years, and though he would have been loathe to say it five years ago... He understood now that mercenaries had codes of conduct just as those in nobility had. They were not as different as they seemed to be, blue blood or no.

They circled warily, one probing her defences, and the other pushing aside and probing in return with expert eyes and calm. She had more years of warfare on her than he ever could imagine, and her experience showed in her emotionless face and the blunt strength of the Relic she wielded as easily as if it was a part of her own body. Again, Lorenz wondered as she swatted his lance aside yet again, refusing to allow him to close despite his best efforts. Her footwork was immaculate as he continued to push forward, and she never permitted her back to face anything other than open air. She knew his intent to corner her, it was the best way to gain an advantage, and so every push forward was met with a sidestep rather than a retreat in a never-ending dance until one of them lost patience.

At least, that had been Lorenz' thought until her blade whipped out as his lance moved forward in yet another experimental stabbing movement at her midsection. Her blade screeched as it pushed alongside his weapon, shoving it wide and exposing him, and Lorenz only barely managed to jerk backwards before the tip of her sword met the front of his chest. Instinctively his hand lurched for his belt, reaching for the tome he carried at his waist, and unbidden he felt the magic responding to his gesture. The fire spell raced from his palm without consent or thought, eager for its target, and Lorenz felt a bolt of fear as the magic exploded on contact with the sword Raine lifted at once to shield herself from it.

It happened in an instant, the smoke and cinders obscuring his opponent, and for a heart-stopping moment, Lorenz knew he had erred. He hadn't intended to bring his magic into the battle, and yet on nothing but instinct alone he had reached for it at the sight of that blade coming for his chest. A true duel did not involve anything but the weapons the two involved had chosen, and he been holding his lance when he had called for it. Using his magic was a gross breach of etiquette, and from the alarmed shouts of the students Raine had been meticulously keeping at her back... He wondered when he would feel their wrath collapsing on his head.

"Keep your head, lest you lose it, Lorenz."

Her voice came calm and almost lazily from within the smoke, and from the veil came her blade, plunging out like a lance as it extended and came deathly close to carving a hole into his shoulder. He backed away at once, watching as Raine emerged from the screen of dark smoke and falling cinders unscathed, and looking almost amused at his error. Her eyes were flinty as the blade retracted and returned to her hand, and she swung it once to clear away the remainders of his spell before she tilted her head and glanced at the still-faintly glowing book that was strapped to his waist. An accidental cast on instinct was impressive, especially considering the weight of the spell, and she mused idly as she continued forward with a slow, careful step, "I see your studies have branched out further than simple knighthood. You've gained a good grasp of arcane arts... You're holding back. I'd advise you not to."

Lorenz twitched, uncertain of her words and watching closely as Raine continued to move forward. Now he felt himself wishing to retreat, and he wondered if it was fear, or respect for just how easily she had been able to counter a move even he had not anticipated making. He was outclassed, and outclassed in a way that defied words. She had already won the moment she had drawn her blade, and while that knowledge chilled the blood in his veins... He did not permit it to show. He was a nobleman. A knight. He could not give her fear, not while the lives of his men hung in the balance. Yet, he could not also permit her words to go unchallenged, and he replied tightly as he stood his ground, lance at the ready to repel her should she choose to use her sword once more, "A duel is not held by hiding away secret weapons."

"A war isn't won by playing fairly, either." Raine replied with an errant shrug of her shoulders, and yet her eyes remained focussed on him like a cat before its unsuspecting prey. He was the mouse between her claws, awaiting the inevitable, yet he still stood tall and ready to fight to the last. She respected him for that, especially as she saw the revelation of the gaps between them dawning in his eyes. He wasn't going to win, but he was not yet ready to yield. His honour, his loyalty to his men, would not permit such an act of disgrace or cowardice. For that, she allowed him a moment as she stopped her advance, and she nodded down to his belt as she told him flatly, "Duel me with all you have. Magic and lance. You're deprived of your mount, so you may as well make use of your remaining tools. Don't concern yourself with such paltry things like rules of engagement. You demanded this fight for the lives of your men. Use everything at your disposal if you meant a word of that."

"You shall regret saying those words, Professor..." Lorenz gritted his teeth at the stab to both his pride and his honour, and he hefted his lance in his right hand as his left pulled his tome free for use. He trusted his skills, both in magic and in fencing, and she only had her blade to count on. Here, she was at a disadvantage, even if it was slight, but her challenge could not go unanswered. She had proven she would end this battle quickly if he proved that he was holding back even a tiny bit, and he did not want such an undignified last note to be his final page in history. "Very well, then! Know the full might of the House of Gloucester!"

A barrage followed, forcing Raine onto the defensive as magic rained on her like hellfire from above at Lorenz' command. Immediately she hit the ground and rolled, dodging one fireball after another as the young nobleman forced her back and away from him with his mastery. She could do little more than dodge about, trying to keep a wary eye on his movements and failing as he sent spell after spell chasing after her like a bow shot from an arrow. He was quicker with his magic than most, having both the focus and the strength to keep up the sustained fire from all of his physical training, but even that stamina would find an end eventually. She only needed to survive the onslaught and find an opening if she wanted to end this quickly.

The fire stopped as Raine found her feet again, only to find herself momentarily blinded as a pulse of magic burst out from somewhere on her left with a reverberating thrumming noise. There was no dodging this, and Raine raised her blade as she saw the arrow of light speeding towards her as if it shot from a giant, magical crossbow. Gritting down her teeth, Raine planted her feet, and a snarl of exertion escaped her lips as she thrust forward, focussing her energy and feeling the sudden bloom of heat in her palms as the Sword of the Creator responded to her wordless command.

The blade punctured through the centre of the spell, dispersing it into flecks of light and sound with one, sharp movement, and Lorenz' resounding shout of pain told her that her sword had found its mark. As the light slowly filtered away, Raine blinked away the dots obscuring her vision to see that the Alliance noble had taken her blade in his shoulder, and his lance now lay far from his reach as he lay slumped on the ground. Blood flowed freely from the large dent in his armour, more proof that her aim had been true, and his hand twitched as he tried in vain to find his lance, or his tome despite his wounds.

Raine said nothing as she approached him slowly, her sword retracting once more to its hilt and awaiting its master's command. Lorenz, for his credit, did not say anything either as he placed a hand over his wound, trying to stem the bloodflow from his dominant arm as he looked up at her in silent defiance. She appreciated his expression and all that it meant, as well as his acceptance of his coming fate as he refused to move from where he had fell. He could not rise without stumbling, and so he stayed where he had fallen, awaiting her, and she had to remind herself she could not smile as she came closer and spoke with dangerous calm, "You've lost. I'll spare your men, as promised... As for you-"

Raine had no chance to finish her sentence as a burst of cold wind signalled the arrival of new magic, and instinct alone saved her as she leapt back just in time to escape the great upheaval of ice crystals and burst from the ground where she had been standing only seconds before. The ice magic bloomed like a deadly flower, covering the surrounding bridge in ice for a good ten metres from where it had originated, and bringing with it a freezing, screeching wind. The giant crystals pierced upwards and in all directions, as sharp as a swordpoint and as many as a small battalion, and from a distance, the caster spoke, her voice as frozen and deadly as the spell she had let loose when she had seen Raine approaching the fallen Lorenz, "That is enough, Professor... You will not come any closer."

"Marianne! What are you doing on the field?!" Lorenz pushed against the ground at the sound of the young maiden's voice, but his bloody hands allowed him no purchase as he struggled to stand. He had no need to as the woman in question hurried forward, but rather than stoop to help him up, she instead took a defensive stance in front of him as her spell began to fade away. Her hands still glistened with those pale, icy flakes of magical energy, and her back was all he could see as he realized she fully intended to defend him from the group in front of him. He hastened to continue, pushing his back against the wall to steady his feet as he continued sharply, "Wait! Don't provoke them! Professor, wait, she does not understand! Marianne, you _swore_ you would not take to the battlefield regardless of the consequence! You said you did not wish to fight!"

"And I still do not wish to do battle, Lorenz... but I cannot sit idly by and allow this to happen. Not after all you've done for me these past five years." Marianne did not look at him, but instead kept her gaze trained on Raine as she kept one hand lifted in warning. For her part, the professor had not made a move since her arrival, and Marianne admitted to feeling relief... It would be too easy for a woman of her calibre to cut her down, but she hadn't cared about such a thing when she had seen Lorenz on the ground, and the professor approaching him with her sword in hand. Her body had leapt into action before better thought could reign, and even though she felt her body pulse with fear... She did not waver as she spoke quietly, firmly, "I will not move."

"Hold, Marianne. I don't intend to kill him, nor do I intend to do you any harm." Raine hastened to sheathe her blade as she saw the glint of magic still stirring around the woman's wrists, and she held up her hands in a gesture of peace. As surprised as she was to see the young woman, and in such a healthy-looking state, no less, she forced herself to keep her calm and her head. Marianne had always proven a deadly mage despite her lack of a desire to fight, and that spell was enough proof that five years wherever she had been had not dulled her skills an ounce. She took a few healthy steps backwards, well aware that her words had to sound rather weak when the entire bridge was under siege, but she continued nonetheless as she held Marianne's surprisingly steely glance, "He was the one who proposed the duel, but I never intended to take his life, even if I was to win. I don't wish to kill anyone here, if I can help it."

"What is it that you intend, then, Professor?"

"To have him return to the Alliance's fold, alongside his men, and abandon the bridge." Raine's answer came swift and clear, and from the looks of surprise on both Marianne and Lorenz's faces, she knew she now had the advantage. She reached for her belt, finding an elixir tucked away safely in her pack, and she held it forward as a peace offering as she continued on tersely, "Our fight is with the Empire, not the Alliance. And I understand full well that Lorenz is only here because his father is spearheading the civil war inside of the Alliance territory. But if you'd return to the Alliance with a message of peace to Claude from our forces, we may be able to end this war before more damage is done to both the Kingdom and Alliance territories. Those are my intentions. I want to end this war with the least amount of casualties possible. The only way I see that happening is by establishing a truce. Lorenz is the perfect man to deliver our terms to the only one capable of giving us aid."

"You'd have me return to House Reigan?" Lorenz struggled with the words as he forced himself to his feet, and Marianne was quick in whirling about to help him stand as she realized he was not about to sit quietly and be dictated to. Yet, the look on his face was not entirely one of anger, but rather of surprise and confusion. She wrapped a protective arm about his waist, lending him her shoulder, and though she knew it pained him, he leaned on her willingly as he looked over her head and to Raine in astonishment. "Your goals are lofty, Professor, but you underestimate Claude. He would sooner shoot me on sight before he would listen to a word I would have to say."

"Not if I was the one delivering the terms." Marianne spoke up quietly, and Lorenz looked to her sharply with reproach in his eyes. She shook her head to quiet him, her one arm squeezing gently about his waist before she turned to look at Raine who was regarding them closely, but not coldly. She had heard of the fighting from the men inside of the bridge, and she had dodged her guards to come outside just in time to see what she had assumed to be the end, but she understood everything now without more needing to be said. Lorenz had kept her well guarded from the war, but she knew now that time was over. The rebellion was making its move. The Empire and the Alliance would have no choice but to follow. She lifted her chin, voice calm but steady when she spoke, "I have spent the last five years being sheltered by House Gloucester after the fall of Garreg Mach. I could not return home... and I did not wish to. Lorenz has kept me safe, shielding me from the war, and offering me a safe haven when I had the most need of it. My debt to him is great. I am sorry for my actions, Professor... but I couldn't allow him to be killed here, like this, when I owe him so much."

"I understand, Marianne." Raine looked over her shoulder, to where Dorothea was standing quietly, but listening intently with narrowed, curious eyes... The story was not exactly new, even if the details were different, but it made her take pause all the same. She did not know Marianne well, a fact she had always regretted, but to see her now, standing tall and proud beside Lorenz, clearly caring deeply for him and feeling both indebted and protective... That much, she could understand and respect. It was obvious she was not making a suggestion, either, but Raine hesitated all the same, tilting her head to the side as she continued slowly, "But to ask you to go in his stead, when you've taken a passive stance in the war thus far, isn't fair to you."

"No, perhaps it isn't... but remaining passive has done more harm than any good, I think. The Goddess would be disappointed in me. It is time I acted." Marianne shook her head and stood firmly, and she felt that stab of guilt once more deep in her chest. She had chosen out of fear to hide from her adoptive family when the monastery had fallen, and it had been Lorenz who had found her and sheltered her when she had been at a loss. She had been glad to rely on him and his charity, finding work in a chapel inside of his territory under his protection... But she had lingered too long, and did too little while Lorenz had been called to fight. She couldn't remain in sloth for any longer. Not when he had been so willing and eager to protect her with his life. She continued quietly, her voice silk and steel all at once as she explained, "If you would have Lorenz attempt to broker a truce between you and Claude... I would offer my aid to you, Professor. Lorenz is right. Claude will not trust him. But he may trust me enough to listen to your offer. I do have a little bit of sway left to me, even as neutral party."

"How much sway is a little?"

"My house has supported Claude since the insurrection, so I will be seen as an ally should I return to Derdriu, and approach Claude's forces... The only problem is Claude himself." Marianne admitted, and she hated to say it aloud, but she knew there was little point in hiding the real facts. Lorenz looked away from her, grinding his teeth in audible annoyance, but she felt for him. It had been only under threat of the Empire that he had parted ways from the true Alliance he loved so dearly, but that did not mean he had any pure feelings for Claude, and how the leader of the Alliance had been dealing with the civil war raging across his territory. She continued quickly, knowing that time was of the essence for Raine and her soldiers, "He will not give you aid if you do not have anything to give him in return... As easily as it may be for me to get his ear, I will not be able to promise he will be willing to give you aid, even if he will hear me out. And I cannot even promise that much, as good my odds are, in comparison to Lorenz."

"None of that matters, so don't worry overmuch of it. Go with Lorenz and return to the safety of the allied territories... and when you get the chance, deliver one message to Claude, or whoever you can find that _does_ have his ear." Raine instructed her just as quickly as she, too, realized that the clock was beginning to run down on them all. They needed to continue forward to the base of the bridge while Warin and the rest of their troops continued on with capturing the rest of the territory. It was imperative they arrived at Ferdinand's location before the rest of the army did, and she hated knowing she was fighting time. She looked to the soldiers behind her, and jerked her head in the direction of the hall that lay ahead before instructing them firmly, "Go on ahead for me, and draw out as many of the enemy troops as you can. Anyone flying the Gloucester flag is to be sent on ahead, off of the bridge, to meet with their lord. You know what to do."

Though Ingrid and Sylvain turned as one at their new orders, Annette could not help but pause instead. Even Dorothea seemed hesitant at being sent on ahead, but she was unwilling to speak as proof of the fact that she believed she had no right to. Annette however did not worry about such things, and voiced her concern aloud without any real hesitation as she clasped the edge of her tome tightly, worriedly, "Are you certain we should go ahead without you, Professor? Will you be all right here?"

"I won't be long behind you, Annette." Raine reassured her kindly, and she well understood Annette's hesitation. It was not as if the mage was worried about the safety of herself or her classmates. All three of them were well capable of taking care of themselves in any situation that would arise, which was exactly why Raine had hand-picked them for this particular mission. Ingrid was a brilliant lancer, and had begun to flex her muscles in the art of white magic, to complement Sylvain's growing skills in the darker arts. His strong axe would make up for anything Ingrid could not conquer herself, and Annette, with her mastery of both trees of magic, as well as her family's Relic in hand, would be more than enough to handle the rest. They did not need her as much as they believed they did. They were no longer students. "You'll find me as your shadow just when you begin to miss me. Please. Press on, and use your best judgement. Dorothea knows the flag of House Aiger. She'll guide you better than I."

Dorothea nodded encouragingly when Annette looked to her, and with one last frown, the mage agreed silently with her orders and hurried off after Ingrid and Sylvain without complaint. She knew better than to argue, especially when they were so pressed for time, and so she simply obeyed despite her misgivings. Raine waited until all four had turned the corner and disappeared before turning back to Lorenz and Marianne, and she watched quietly for a moment in respectful silence as Marianne pressed a softly glowing hand to Lorenz' shoulder in order to seal his wound to stop the bleeding. Only when she pulled away did she finally speak up, and her voice was calm and quiet as she began, "I'm sorry to wrap the two of you into my scheming, especially considering the way your homeland is now... but I hope you believe me when I say I would never do this if the circumstances weren't dire."

"I believe you, Professor... You have taken on a monumental task, turning the tattered forces of the Kingdom towards the Empire, and it is only natural that you would need every ounce of aid you could find." Lorenz dismissed her apology with a wave of his hand, and he winced immediately at the reminder that even Marianne's healing could not completely refresh him. The scolding look she gave him as she noticed his flinch only cowed him further, and he hastily turned his head away from her glare, unsure if Raine had noticed, and not wanting to know if she had as he continued on in a hopefully more serous vein, "The Empire is the enemy of us both... and surely Claude will see that, and wish to make use of the rebellion's movements. I imagine that is your intention, with this message of yours?"

"Partially. I'm aware that Claude is motivated more by personal interest than he is the greater good... but even he knows a good opportunity when he sees one, and he's never failed to leap on it when it presents itself." Raine answered with a slight shake of her head, but she felt a pulse of misgiving despite her words all the same. Even with Warin's warnings, the truth remained that five years had passed since she had last had a chance to speak to the young leader of the Alliance. Could he have changed just as much as her students had in those five years? Could she predict him with any accuracy now, as she had back when it had only been tests of strength, wit, and academia at stake? Still... It was a risk she had no choice but to take. Their route was assured. The response of the Empire and Alliance were not in question. This was the only move she could make if she wished to change the tides. "Tell him one thing and one thing only. The Battle of the Eagle and Lion... It _will_ take place again, unless the Deer wish to change the course of history. It's in their hands, _his_ hands, if he wants that to happen. He'll understand without more needing to be said."

Lorenz and Marianne traded a look, both having furrowed brows as they wondered exactly at the meaning of Raine's words. They all were aware of what had taken place five years ago, but they were not privy to the knowledge that Raine clearly possessed. Whatever her plans were were clearly beyond their scope, and neither were entirely sure they wanted to know the true details of what she was hoping for. Yet, Lorenz had to take pause, despite knowing that his time to flee with Marianne and his men was growing shorter by the moment as his former students pressed onwards... He looked to Raine seriously, one hand clenching at his side as the other worked to restrain itself from reaching for Marianne to pull her protectively closer to him, "And if he chooses to not respond to your message as you hope...? Do you have plans for that outcome as well, Professor?"

"I do. I am only hoping that those plans don't need to be used." Raine answered honestly, and she felt that tiredness, that wariness, returning to try and weigh down her shoulders. She was not a politician, and every moment she spent trying to spearhead this damned rebellion, she was realizing that she wasn't much of a leader, either. It was one thing to teach, to shepherd and protect, but to plan out battle after battle, to delicately balance the power of commanding as well as the repercussions of any action she chose to make when she was being scrutinized so ferociously... She shook her head and tried to shake off the weight, too. It didn't matter here and now. She needed to act as a soldier. A mercenary. Battle was what mattered most here on the bridge, and she forced that forward as she explained, "I've tried to prepare for every possible outcome, but I'm not omniscient. I can only play with the cards I have in my hand... and with the cards I know my opponents have. Claude is an ally we all sorely need. I understand that may not be how he feels of us. Still... My hand will remain extended until he forces it to take up a weapon, or a shield. Until then... I must keep pressing forward, as everyone else will. So, with that all said... Go, and be safe, the both of you. Don't endanger yourselves for our sakes, most of all, if you can avoid it. My plans mean nothing if it means costing you your lives."

Marianne looked to her sharply, not entirely sure what to make of such a comment, especially considering where they had been standing only moments ago. Yet... She also heard the truth in her voice, and had seen it already in her actions. She had spared Lorenz, and from Dorothea's appearance on the battlefield, as well as the orders she had given the former Blue Lions... She was hoping to spare Ferdinand, as well. She was playing a risky game for the sake of a handful of lives, but she was playing it all the same. Those few lives did mean everything to her, even if to the whole of things, they were rather inconsequential. Still... Marianne wanted to hear her say it aloud, to say the words, and so she asked quietly, but not unkindly, "You'd weigh our lives against the whole of the rebellion, Professor?"

"I'd weigh your lives against the whole of my schemes, yes. The rebellion will live on without my ideas. It's important that you two also live to see the end of the war, too. At least, that's my wish." Raine replied with an idle shrug, and the smallest hint of a wry smile. She was well aware of how it had to sound, and how it had to look, especially to the two before her, but she was already finished with the violence the war was causing. "I'm aware it's naive, but it's how I've chosen to go about things. You are not less important to me than my ideas of alliances and truces. If you'll be endangered helping me... I'd prefer you choose to save yourselves. That's all there is to it."

"Professor..."

"I'm sorry, but as much as I'd enjoy trading words with you, there's a battle that needs fighting, Lorenz. For now, do your duty, and perhaps someday in the future, we can speak again as friends." Raine hastened to interrupt him as she sensed his passion for eloquent speech surging through him, and as much as she did wish to be able to sit quietly and listen to him... She simply did not have the time. She shared a nod with Marianne before turning about, sword in hand and expression hardening the moment her back turned. There was still more fighting to come, and she had to steel herself for it. One phase had gone relatively smoothly, but the next would be more difficult... and she had to prepare for the worst possible outcomes, regardless of how sorely she wished she didn't.

The farewells echoed in her ears as she set off at a dead sprint after her students, her sword gripped in a white-knuckled hand as she heard the sound of fighting roaring on from all sides. She couldn't tell whose roars were whose, which side was winning and how, but she had no time to dwell on such things. She had chosen to leave the majority of the fighting in the hands of her brother and Rodrigue, and she had no choice but to trust to their skills and their decisions. Now there was only her mission, and the lives of the students still under her protection. Nothing else mattered but them.

Ahead she saw the flashes of magic, interspersed with the gleam of a lance and an axe further on ahead of the mages, and Raine smiled grimly as she put on speed as her sword pulsed with energy in her palm. They were entangled with Imperial troops, using the fortifications of the bridge exactly as she had hoped they would, and the mounted enemy units were having too much difficulty trying to force their horses into the bottleneck Ingrid and Sylvain had created. Annette and Dorothea backed them up with their spells, raining a cataclysm of wind and lightning on their opponents in equal measure, and Raine felt her blade warm as she lifted it to her shoulder. They'd done well without her so far... but no longer. She had returned for them, and their final push would be made together.

With one huge leap, Raine all but flew over the heads of her spellcasters, joining Sylvain and Ingrid in the fray, and the Sword of the Creator split both the wind and armour alike as it whipped about to scatter the men who had foolishly bunched themselves into easy targets. They fell back in alarm and confusion, unsure of themselves with this added lightning-flash joining their initial foursome of enemies, and wordlessly both professor and students used this to their advantage to push themselves further forward. Just behind their foes they could make out the end of the bridge and that last entry point where the last of the reinforcements would be pouring through, and through gritted teeth, Raine snarled out as she felt Ingrid and Sylvain taking up point on her sides, "Just a bit more...! This ends today! _Push_!"

It was chaos, a whirlwind of magic, weaponry, and blood, and yet Raine felt herself at complete ease in the midst of the melee. She could see the thinning of the troops ahead, could make out the flags of House Aiger still behind, and she heard Dorothea's sharp intake of breath as she, too, saw beyond the soldiers in front of her. Yet, that was all noise in the background, lost in the roar of the fighting, but in mere minutes that passed by like flashes of lightning, the fighting ebbed away as soldiers dropped, or turned to flee. The way was open now, and without hesitation or need for orders, all five pushed ahead through what had meant to be a blockade to find themselves in the wide open space of the end of the Great Bride of Myrddin.

In an instant, Raine realized that Ferdinand had played a much more conservative hand with his men, and he had proven himself wiser than his fellow soldiers, as well as the advancing force ahead of him. Flanking him stood a dozen paladins, and behind each were a battalion of archers as he sat astride his own mount, waiting and watching with wary, smouldering eyes as his fellow countrymen fell like wheat to the advancing forces from the east. Yet, despite it all as she stood at the entrance of the bottleneck she had devised, she felt no fear as she saw what the faced. The numbers were slanted against them... but that was nothing new. And Raine strode carelessly to the fore, breathing hard and flecked with dust, smoke, and blood as she greeted him in a calm, neutral voice, "Ferdinand."

"Professor. I had suspected it was you behind this... It's a pity that after so long, we must meet this way." Ferdinand returned her words almost neutrally, but the hand on his blade proved that he was not at all as calm as he wished to appear. He swept a careful eye over her men, both surprised and silently impressed that she had managed to push through both the Gloucester and Imperial forces with so few people alongside her, but it no longer mattered. He had prepared for this. His sword-arm raised, and behind him every man and woman with a bow in hand nocked their arrows, and took aim. It would be quick for them, at the very least... His voice was a roar as every archer raised their bows, releasing when he spoke as any well-oiled machine would when the trigger was pressed, and seconds later the sky itself turned dark as arrows fell like iron rain, "Archers... _FIRE!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Only one more chapter to go for the bridge, which amuses me slightly, as I've somehow made a relatively inconsequential chapter in the AM campaign (from a storytelling perspective, anyway) turn into a trio of chapters... I still hate fighting chapters, though. This was a hell of a slog to get through... and the next one, as well as the entirety of Grondor will likely be the same. Still, I've gotta do it, and I am very determined to do it, too. I need to improve on all of my skills to become a better author, after all. I'll still enjoy the relatively "easier" scenes of peace-time and romance and plot advancement not based on combat, though. Can't help it. It's both my forte, and what I enjoy writing most, after all!
> 
> So this is kinda my first cliffhanger... and it's been awhile since I got to write a good old-fashioned cliffie. I used to love these things, even though they got me a lot of rage back in my Gundam days. Still, it got a good chuckle out of me to finally get a chance to end a chapter on a big, "Oh shit!" moment. Especially on a fighting chapter. I guess it's my payback? You put me through writing out fight scenes, and I make you guys wonder what the hell I have planned for the next chapter? Iunno. Feel free to throw tomatoes, I guess. I'm tired. XD
> 
> I don't have much of a long AN to write, though I did drop a lot of plot here, but I'll allow you guys to discuss it rather than go through it myself. I always planned on "fixing" Grondor ever since I committed to writing a novella of Azure Moon, but how I was going to go about it fluctuated as I continued on... Here's hoping (and wondering) that I've made it both interesting, and perhaps a bit more believable than most "fix-it" fics could have.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading thus far, and please drop me a review should you feel the need. I'm grateful for your support, and I hope that you've enjoyed what I've written, and will continue to enjoy what I have planned out in the future. I hope you guys all have a good one, and I'll see you all again soon!
> 
> Mood: Sore.
> 
> Listening To: "The Racing Rats" - The Editors
> 
> ~ Sky


	8. Disturbances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: Action/Adventure, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, War. (T)
> 
> Characters: Raine, Dorothea, Ferdinand, Dimitri, Warin.
> 
> Summary: Their paths had diverged so vastly, to the point where it seemed their destinations would be completely opposing places despite the fact that they were still standing side by side as allies. Her way of mercy and his of death and justice could not coexist together. They had proven that already, with how frequently they had butted heads in the last handful of moons... yet, there she stood, successful while he was left drowning in doubt. What would happen, if she was right, in the end of all things? Would he stand empty and bloody, with nothing but their voices still echoing in his ears, when all was said and done? He did not know... and that disturbed him more than than anything he had yet seen.

**Lone Moon**

**The Great Bridge of Myrddin**

**Afternoon**

"Ouch... Easy there, Flayn... It really isn't as bad as it looks, you know..." Raine winced away as the emerald-haired healer zealously wrapped bandages about her forearm, but she wasn't in much of a position to fight the young girl no matter how much she really wished to. She was far too tired, feeling the weight of her injuries and the strain of the battle falling on her body now that the bridge had been claimed for the rebellion's forces, and Flayn had come after her like a wyvern in heat in order to seat her dear professor down to begin treating her wounds in the aftermath. It didn't quite help that most of their other healers were preoccupied at the moment, but Raine couldn't quite help herself as she remarked idly, "You would be better served helping out Ferdinand right about now, if you really wanted to apply some of your skills. I'm merely scraped up in comparison."

"Dorothea won't let anyone near him at the moment." Flayn replied pertly as she finished tying the edges of the bandages into a tight, intricate knot to ensure that they would not lose pressure, nor come undone as her professor rolled her sleeve back over them to hide her injuries. She didn't quite understand why her professor was so careful about hiding away her battle wounds, but she did respect the fact that it was clearly something she thought important to do. She forced herself back up, watching as Raine rolled her shoulders to work out the tension, and she continued with a slight smile curling at her lips, "She was rather firm on her decision, and so far no one has chosen to challenge her on it. Considering things, however, I cannot say I blame her."

"Nor can I. If I had a whit of skill in healing, and was in her position, I likely would have done the same." Raine agreed with a small smile, and she shook her head before casting a glance over her shoulder where the two in question currently were. Ferdinand hadn't risen from where he had fallen during the battle, and that had almost been a full hour ago, but for his part, the Imperial noble didn't look quite as upset about his situation as he likely could have. Dorothea was tending to his wounds with both her healing magic and the basic tools of the trade, and was berating him throughout the entire process without pause. It was her right to, and, as Flayn had said, nobody had the reason, or the brass, to try and intercede.

It had been Dorothea after all who had saved her companions from the volley of arrows Ferdinand had fired upon them, and with a scorching blast of lightning, the sky had lit up and each and every missile had found itself bursting aflame in mid-air. In true operatic fashion she had revealed herself then and there, letting both Ferdinand and his men know who exactly was travelling alongside the professor and the soldiers of the rebellion. It had been a stunning move of both skill and bravado, and she had achieved exactly what she had wanted with it, much to Raine's admiration and exasperation.

_"Hold!" The order was rather unnecessary, considering the shock that had filled the battlefield with the sudden spike of magic and the effortless ease that had left his attack less than useless on his opponents. Ferdinand swung his horse about, his eyes wide in shock, and the hand that had been so tightly gripping his blade had loosened until it almost clattered to the stone below in thoughtless surprise. The men behind him stirred uncertainly, but he paid them no heed as he watched with widening eyes as Dorothea stepped out boldly from behind Raine, her fingertips still faintly crackling with traces of electricity to prove she had been the one to free the storm, "Dorothea...? What are you doing here?"_

_"I'm here to put a stop to this madness before it costs you your life, Ferdinand." Dorothea's answer came clear and calm, though Raine noticed that despite her theatre, she couldn't quite get her hands to stop trembling as they curled into fists at her side. She strode forward and into no man's land, though Raine and her students followed her closely to provide cover, should it become necessary. Still, despite their movements, Dorothea proved her eyes were for Ferdinand and no one else, and she spoke directly to him as she continued in that same clear voice, "I want the same thing I asked of you five years ago; to stop allowing yourself to be put under Edelgard's boot, and to leave the Empire. To leave with me."_

_"You..." Ferdinand took pause, his brow furrowing as his eyes moved wildly over Dorothea's form, and the flanking soldiers about her. They had carved a path easily through all the men that had been blocking the eastern passage, and she had been with them the whole way. He had surmised that the professor had been the one leading the charge, as no one else had the power or tactical mind to do so, especially when his scouts had told him of the others on the lower, larger part of the bridge. She had taken one single team to do so much damage, using the majority of her forces as a diversion, and as he looked to Dorothea, he could not help but wonder... He shook his head, teeth grinding as he instead turned to glare at Raine as he demanded sharply, "Is this your scheme...? To drag her here like some hostage? I thought you above such petty tactics, Professor."_

_"Professor Raine brought me here against her better judgement, and because I demanded to be here today." Dorothea interrupted him curtly, and her emerald eyes flashed both defiance and anger for his accusation that Raine would dare to use her simply to force him to stand down. Such an idea was folly anyway, considering how the two of them had parted ways five years ago. What reason would Raine even have to believe that Ferdinand would deign to surrender simply because she had Dorothea as a potential hostage? The mere thought made her anger flare higher, and she snapped out in reproach, "I demanded and begged and pleaded to be here for_ your _sake. This war... Edelgard's conquests... They've taken too many lives already. I refused to allow you to be lost to it all, too. Not without trying one more time to make you see sense."_

_Ferdinand said nothing, his brow furrowing as the hand on his blade tightened again in response to her words. Though they were the same ones she had spoken all those years ago in desperation to make him leave the Empire with her, now she was no longer speaking with sadness or fear. There was only anger now, anger that she had been forced to this point, and part of him ached for her. The last place he had thought he would see her again was on the battlefield, especially when she had so pointedly told him she was sick of all of the meaningless bloodshed, and yet there she stood... Sword and tome in hand, because of him. For him. His teeth ground down audibly even as he shook his head and muttered, "We've spoke of this before... Nothing has changed since then."_

_"Nothing? Nothing at all, Ferdinand?" Dorothea questioned with narrowed eyes, and she took a threatening step forward in a show of both defiance and recklessness. She heard Raine shadowing her, but she paid no attention to the professor as she instead faced Ferdinand head-on. She had only needed to spend a year, one single year inside of the Empire before she had seen too much, and she knew already from both experience and the word of her comrades to know the situation had not improved an ounce. It made her furious that he was averting his eyes, that he was clinging so furiously to his belief that he had an obligation to the homeland that had abandoned him, and all of that was in her voice as she snarled, "I've seen it all myself, and I ran away from it when Edelgard showed her true colours as a tyrant. How can you not see it yourself, unless you're intentionally averting your eyes?! The smallfolk are starving, being conscripted against their will, and dying in droves for daring to stand up for themselves! And that's only in the Empire! It's like that all over Fódlan! And you say nothing's changed?! Do you really want to support her, put your life on the line, for that kind of ruler, Ferdinand? Does your obligation to the Emperor mean looking the other way as she sets fire to everything you once swore to protect?"_

_Ferdinand twitched, feeling his molars grinding in a mixture of anger and shame as Dorothea's diatribe struck him like a lance-blow to the gut. Nothing she said was false, and nothing she said wasn't anything he hadn't already considered. Yet there he stood all the same, sword in hand, astride his mount, and fighting underneath the flag of the Empire because his own territory had been stolen from him and meant less than the tapestry its banner was printed upon. He still bore the flag of his house, still clung to all that had been torn away from him... and for what? He hadn't had an answer then, and he did not have an answer now. She was not wrong. He knew that... and yet... still he could not drop his sword._

_"Why are we listening to this? Put an arrow in the wench, and let's put an end to these fools."_

_"Agreed... I'm tired of this."_

_Ferdinand checked his mount at the voices of the soldiers behind him, and in one smooth pull he faced down the men who had dared to speak up so impertinently. His eyes narrowed as he cast a stern glare across his forces, picking out the most irritated and defiant of the soldiers behind him with ease. His hand tightened on both the bridle of his horse and the weapon in his hand, and his voice was a harsh, clipped snarl that had never failed to cow even the most boisterous of the men he had once commanded, "You dare speak out of turn, and further suggest killing a woman during a parley? What kind of soldiers of the Empire are you?"_

_"Soldiers who won't hesitate to obey the orders we're given. We serve Emperor Edelgard, not you. And_ she _is the one who tasked us with the guarding of this bridge." The reply came from a fellow paladin, who Ferdinand turned to look at with both looming realization and a deep sinking feeling somewhere in his stomach. The words were iron and proud, firm and completely flat in their response to him. He believed every word he spoke to his "commander", and felt no fear of reprisal because of it. "We know who you are,_ Lord _Aiger... and we were warned of you. We have explicit permission from the Emperor herself to cut you down should you even consider the idea of treachery."_

 _Ferdinand felt as if a blade had been sunk deep in his stomach, and yet with the pain... he somehow felt absolutely no surprise. Hadn't Dorothea warned him that this could be his reward for his loyalty to his newly crowned Emperor? That after all she had done to his father, that it was more than some remote possibility that she would throw him away, too, the moment it became convenient for her? He was not an ally she cared for. He was not someone she would go to any lengths to protect. And yet, all those years ago, he had lashed out in anger, refusing to believe it because he_ was _noble, and even without his title, his lands, his soldiers... He had been trained since birth to be the helping hand on the Emperor's shoulder, and now more than ever was that hand needed. He would stay, would do anything and everything to prove his worth and help his Emperor achieve her goals the right way, and somehow he would create some good out of all of this madness..._

_Now, reality had come crashing down hard, and Ferdinand was well aware of just how alone he stood amongst the soldiers that had been given to him so kindly by his Emperor to replace his own men. Still, he did not allow that thought to cow him as he sat up straighter in the saddle, his hands tightening on his weapon and bridle until they became numb. If this was to be the way of things... He would avert his eyes no longer. A quick push of his heels had his stallion moving slightly to the left, inserting both himself and his great steed in between the men behind him and Dorothea and the soldiers of the rebellion. Defiance was quietly simmering on his face as he retorted in a deceptively quiet tone, "Is that the way of things, then? You'll cut me down, for simply entreating you not to fall to violence during a simple parley? That's how far you, the Empire, has fallen?"_

_"There is no parley. There is no speaking to these fools. They are mad dogs to be put down, as is anyone else foolish enough to resist the Empire. The defence of this bridge is all that matters." The answer came like a blade, and in unison with his lieutenant's words, the paladin lifted his lance and hoisted it threateningly. He felt no fear. Only a simple, clean sense of justice and righteousness. He had not joined with the Imperial army because he had been forced to, but because he had been offered a chance to escape his position as a lowly farmer to find fortune, strength, and coin for himself and his family. That was the world the Emperor was building... and that the world he wished to see birthed. It didn't matter who stood in his way. They all would fall if need be in order for that wish to be fulfilled. "You will risk that mission. You must be removed. That is all."_

_The lance flew, but arched high, and Ferdinand's eyes caught the change of aim the moment his former soldier had adjusted his arm. His body moved before any sort of rational thought could command it to. He leapt from his horse, using all of the force he possibly could to launch himself into the way of its trajectory. The world fell away as he landed and rolled, hands outstretched and shoving in one smooth movement as the whistle of the lance rang through his ears, and then pierced in deep through his armour and shoulder. The force of the throw put him on his stomach, pain roaring through his limb and into his torso, but he cared little as he heard Dorothea's sharp, astonished cry for him somewhere a few feet ahead._

_She was safe. He had gotten in the way in time, and she was safe. That was all that mattered. Even as warm blood begun to flow from the wound, and he heard a roar of wind magic suddenly sweeping the arena with the force of a hurricane... He felt nothing but a pleasant sort of warmth in the encroaching darkness. His vision had gone white momentarily with pain, but his ears still worked, and the screams of falling men and the shouts of the professor and the former Blue Lions were clear. They had not hesitated as he had, and he was glad for it. Yet somehow Dorothea's voice remained the loudest, the closest, urging him not to succumb, not to close his eyes, to hold on... but he had trouble finding the strength to grasp onto them. He was tired. So, so, tired... A little rest, knowing he had done his best, was warranted, wasn't it?_

_He smiled as he tasted copper on his lips, and felt the warmth of a hand in his hair. He felt strong hands turning him over, but he could not quite tell whose hands they were. His head was lifted, gently placed in a soft, warm lap, and something calming, almost liquid was pouring across his wound and numbing most of the pain. His mind did not care, as the shock of the injury had come on too fast even if the healing had come immediately after, and he saw auburn curls, the most beautiful shade of auburn he had ever seen last as he chuckled weakly to himself, "A drone protects their queen... isn't that right, Dorothea?"_

The fighting had been done in minutes, and the healing even quicker, but even Raine had to admit if anyone wished for a chance at redemption, Ferdinand had earned it in spades. She still could barely believe she had seen it happen, even though she had been right there to watch him take that spear in Dorothea's place the moment he had realized where the Imperial soldier had intended to throw it. His instincts and fast reactions had saved Dorothea, and in turn, Dorothea had saved him. Now he was conscious and receiving an earful for his recklessness, but Raine didn't doubt that things would be relatively fine between the two after a handful of days to reconnect, and allow for the tension to settle. The feelings were obviously still there, for the both of them, and it had proven stronger than the loyalty to their homelands.

"Prince Dimitri is coming."

Flayn's terse warning in her ear brought Raine abruptly away from her musing, and she carefully pulled down her sleeve even further as she automatically rose from the edge of the parapet where she had been sitting. She was exhausted from the fighting, both physically and mentally, but there was no time for her to rest if Dimitri was seeking her out. A cursory look over Flayn's head proved this was exactly what was happening, as the future king was marching towards her with a sharp, intense look on his face, and she took in a breath before speaking quietly to Flayn, "Go find Seteth, and let him know that those who best escaped injury should stay here to man the bridge, while the rest of us begin the trek back to Garreg Mach in preparation for our next move. And if you can, find my brother, and send him to me. Go on."

Flayn didn't wait for further encouragement, and Raine was glad to see her pick up her skirts and hurry out of the way without a word. As feisty as Seteth's daughter truly was, she still knew her place when she was given a true command, and she had yet to disobey her professor once. She was not about to begin now, especially when Dimitri of all people was heading her way, and Raine had to wonder if it was her fear of him, or her instincts to protect others that made her choose to flee rather than stay. She had never hesitated to pick a fight before, but Dimitri was a different beast, and even Flayn was aware that standing up to him for her professor's sake was not something that she, or Raine, wished for even on the worst of days.

Yet... Raine watched Dimitri closely as he approached her, and he only pried his gaze away from her once to look over to see Ferdinand in Dorothea's care before he was returning his eye back to her. His jaw clenched, proof of his unhappiness at the sight, yet he did not seem to want to comment on it. Instead he marched straight up to her, brow deeply furrowed, and his hands clasped tightly at his sides before he spoke without preamble and quiet, sharp intensity, "When you left with your men to the east... Reinforcements arrived from the north. Dedue led them."

Raine felt as if she had been struck in the gut, and instinctively she reached for the nearest ledge to keep herself steady at the mention of Dedue's name. His loss had hit her like a hammer blow when Dimitri had explained how the young Duscur man had died breaking his liege out of the prisons of Fhirdiad, and she had been mourning him just as she was mourning Jeralt ever since. Her pain, she knew, was only secondary to that of Dimitri's and Annette's, both who had loved him sorely, and hearing Dimitri speak his name made her entire body clench with uncertainty. She knew it foolish to doubt him, he had never been a man of japes and was certainly not one to be making them now, yet she couldn't help but ask, her voice trembling despite herself when she questioned, "Dedue is... alive?"

"Yes. He returned with men of Duscur... The same men who saved him after he risked his life to save me. He would have come himself to explain the situation, but he was... delayed. The others are greeting him at the moment." Dimitri explained in that same tense, quiet voice, and he had to look away as he watched the relief and the happiness flood over his professor's face. To her, it had to be another miracle. One of the many she had somehow managed to wrench out of the day, but that did little to dampen his anger with her actions. He had come personally because Dedue had asked him to deliver the news to his former professor, but Dimitri had planned to confront her himself regardless when he had learned of the mission she had been leading in the east without his knowledge. She had gone against everything she knew to be _sane,_ and he could hardly believe she would dare to use his knights, his men, to attempt such a suicidal and foolish gambit.

"Saved by men of Duscur... Then it seems you've been correct all this time. Your actions five years ago paid back dividends."

Dimitri blinked, and for one brief, mad, moment, he forgot everything at the reply he had not expected to hear. For a second he was not sure of what she was speaking, or why she was smiling so gently at him, and it made his stomach tense and his entire body clench in a way he was not wholly comfortable with. But his memory was not clouded, and after the initial surprise, he understood exactly what it was she was referencing, though for the life of him, he could not understand why she seemed so pleased, or was looking at him with such kind eyes. When was the last time she had looked at him like that, anyway? It hadn't been in these past few moons. It couldn't have been, with how badly he had been treating her, even if she _did_ deserve it...

Shaking his head to clear away the worthless thoughts, Dimitri crossed his arms over his chest as he watched her lean back tiredly against the ledge she had been sitting on while Flayn had attended to her wounds. He had initially been pleased to see her injured, to know that she had paid for her foolishness with scars, but now he felt uncomfortable with the knowledge that she was not just injured, she was clearly exhausted. Her skin was pale, and there were shadows beginning to creep underneath her normally so bright seafoam-coloured eyes. Her condition was concerning. She was a commander, meant to lead, and clearly she was flagging when she was needed most. Her foolish errands were costing her, and in turn, costing all of them, too. It made him brusque, both with anger and his inability to understand what was happening as he questioned her sharply, "What exactly do you mean, that I was correct all this time?"

"That day, when the remaining Duscur soldiers tried for a rebellion in Kingdom territory, and you and Dedue concocted that scheme to cover up your wish to save as many of the survivors as you could by saying we were simply acting as a neutral party sent by the church... We didn't save everyone, but those we did save mentioned that the people of Duscur do not forget their debts. The world you envisioned, of those of the Kingdom and those of Duscur, working side by side... You made it happen today because of your actions five years ago." Raine explained with a gentle chuckle, and she shook her head with a mixture of awed disbelief and honest happiness. Dedue was alive because of an act of mercy Dimitri had performed five years prior for him, and the significance of that did not escape her. No, indeed, it meant the absolute world to her. Even now, as he was, his actions in the past were following him, and proving him wrong in the present, and for the future. He could still change, if his actions from long ago will only now reverberating their way to him to prove his current path was wrong. "Dedue is alive because of you."

"Dedue almost died _because_ of me." Dimitri corrected her harshly, and his eye narrowed as his anger returned with a vengeance. Those actions of his five years ago had borne unexpected fruit, and of that he couldn't argue, but it did not change the fact that when push had come to shove... Like everyone else had, Dedue had chosen to throw away his life for his liege to give him a chance to escape his prison. He had spent those last few years mourning not just his family and Glenn, but Dedue as well, for all of the blood that had been spilled to keep a monster such as him alive. He had returned, it was true enough, but he would not permit it to happen again. No. It would _never_ happen again. "Over and over, people die because of me. My father. My stepmother. Glenn. Countless soldiers... Then Dedue nearly joined them. His being alive is a joyful revelation, but his near death was still my fault."

"Is that how _he_ sees it? He's joining with us, I assume, if he brought his brothers and sisters from Duscur to provide us aid. That means he wishes to continue to be by your side, and to serve as your retainer yet again, does it not?" Raine countered, but she did not rise to the bait of his anger, or his harsh words. Their heated exchange that morning, and that moment, moons ago, when she had heard him hotly whispering to himself as if he was arguing with a crowd of unseen spectres... Raine was piecing together the puzzle of what had turned him from the young, charming nobleman she had once knew, and the torn, scarred and broken man she now saw. She could not in good faith continue to meet his poison with her own. There was no need for it. He was poisoning himself, just as she was, because guilt, and the weight of the dead, was the quickest way to join them. "Are you going to turn him away, for fear of him dying? Do you think you even can, considering he came all this way of his own will? Dedue will follow you to the ends of this campaign, regardless of where that will take us. Even if you ordered him to return to his homeland, I doubt he'd obey your commands. Not now."

"If you wish to speak of obeying commands, then what is your excuse for your actions today? Two enemy generals spared, one sent back home with his men, and another taking up precious resources when he should be left rotting with the rest of his ilk... You, yourself, almost died ten times over today." Dimitri was quick to turn her words about, refusing to allow even the thought of the words she was trying to use to pierce him. He had already known sending Dedue away was impossible, and so he had simply settled for demanding a promise that Dedue would never again sacrifice his life for his own. It was not a promise easily given, but he had secured it all the same, and that would have to be enough. Yet, there Raine was, proving she was not nearly as careful with her wards despite all of her words of protection and safety, and her hypocrisy astounded him as he remarked coldly, "And not just yourself, but Ingrid, Annette, and Sylvain were also put into the crossfire for your schemes. All on the word of a former lackey of that witch. Did you succeed today, as you hoped you would? What did you gain? Seeing as you saw fit to not tell me a word of your plans before the battle, and seeing as you used my men to make your plans come to fruition, I believe I deserve to know if your risk was worth it."

"It was worth it. Dorothea was spared seeing her beloved dying at our hands, and he will never again fight for the Empire after what happened today. And as for Lorenz... Well, I admit that I will not know for some time if anything will come of that, but regardless, he did not deserve death simply for being a hostage of his father." Raine was blunt and honest with him, and there was a small hint of a smile playing about her lips as she turned to look over at where Dorothea and Ferdinand were still seated. They were talking quietly now that her healing was mostly finished, and though his one arm hung limp and useless, the other was gently clasping her shoulder, holding her to his chest, and Dorothea was not fighting his embrace at all. She was leaning into him, relief and joy and guilt all at once playing across her face, and Raine could not help but smile as she mused, "This is what we're fighting for. Not meaningless killing... but rescuing the Empire from itself. Not everyone is beholden to Edelgard. Today proved it. It means that its people still have a chance at being saved... and knowing that is worth every risk."

"The Empire's people died today for that woman. They tossed their lives away happily to do her bidding."

"The Empire's soldiers may have, but the same can't be said for the smallfolk, nor the Alliance forces that were all but trapped into doing the Emperor's bidding due to the civil war." Raine corrected him with a shake of her head, and she noted that his voice had changed from anger at her, to a more general sense of indignance and rage. As if the fighting had not pleased him as he had thought it would, despite how eagerly he had been to use his lance to cut down every single soldier that stood in his way. She didn't doubt he had done it, that he had fought just as he wished to within Rodrigue's control, and still... He stood there, looking disturbed and unhappy, and she couldn't help but remark pointedly, "You seem displeased. Why?"

"I... do not know." Dimitri hated the fact that he truly was not sure _why_ he was so angry with what he had witnessed, and the fact only served to make him angrier. He had gotten what he had wanted, hadn't he? Even if his professor's scheming had proven unpalatable, she had kept his soldiers alive, and the bridge was now theirs. They had won a great victory, one of many they would need in order to finally cross into Enbarr... and he knew that, just as well as she did. Being angry over their success... it made little sense to him. He had fought as he had dreamed of, crushing the Imperial army beneath his boot as he had always wished to... So why did he feel no pleasure?

It made him look to her again, sharply, intently, as her words from that morning echoed again in his head. He had been hearing her repeatedly during the battle, despite all of his attempts to drown it out with the melee. She hadn't said it in so many words, but her meaning had been clear. Vengeance had not brought her peace. Instead, it only had brought her more grief, because she had no blame to lay at the feet of the corpses she had piled up in recompense for her father. But their situations were different, weren't they? She did not hear Jeralt every night, every day, as he heard _them._ Their cries for vengeance, their demands on why he was alive, and why they were not... If Jeralt was haunting her, as they haunted him, perhaps it would be different. Perhaps she would think as he did. And it made him question her, despite being fully aware that after her icy reply that morning that he was broaching a topic she did not want to be discussed, "This morn, before the battle... Your claim that you feel nothing but guilt for the death of Jeralt. Is it true?"

Raine tensed unconsciously, and again she felt that plume of anger and grief and hurt, but she held it close as she examined Dimitri's face intently before she allowed an answer. There was no derision or disbelief in his voice. Rather, for the first time in a very long time, his voice was almost... calm. There was no undercurrent of angry gruffness, or superiority, or even cold apathy. There was genuine interest in his question, genuine curiosity, and it made her wonder if she had somehow managed to pierce his defences in order to make him question her so. Still... It didn't change the way her chest ached, or the way her eyes began to smart as she turned her head away so she didn't need to look at him as she replied quietly, "Putting it that way is a little too simple. There's more than guilt. There's grief, too... For you, for everyone, Jeralt passed away five years ago. To me, it's only been a handful of moons since I buried him... but, mind you, I understand that not everyone grieves the same way. Loss can always be as fresh as the day they left us, no matter how much time has passed."

"... That is true. I've forgotten that to you it hasn't been five years."

"Most have. I can't say I blame them." Raine shrugged, but she kept her eyes averted as her arms involuntarily crossed over her stomach in a protective stance. There was no anger or heat in Dimitri's voice, an unusual change for him, especially considering all that had passed between them earlier, but she could find no comfort in it. He wasn't attempting to be comforting anyway, he was merely speaking the facts, and she supposed it wasn't entirely wrong of him to think that way. It was more thoughtful than he had been since she had first seen him again, and she knew she had to count her blessings where she received them. It made her shake her head, and she ran a tired hand through her hair as she mused quietly, "Five years of constant warfare, politics, pain... I escaped that, so I suppose I ought to consider myself lucky."

Dimitri had no response for that, as he felt that disturbance again tightening his stomach and making his hands twitch uncomfortably at his side. He couldn't understand her capacity for empathy. It ran too deep, and it gave her more injury than it saved lives. Yet she didn't seem bothered by it, not overmuch anyway, even though it was clearly costing her to act as she did. He was not helping in that arena, he was well aware he was making things worse, but her care was not his concern. He had one goal, and one goal only... He was not a foolish, stumbling student any longer, childishly fumbling about with his priorities. No, those days were long behind him... So why did that look on her face make him so damned uncomfortable?

He forced himself to speak again, disliking his own confusion and inner turmoil, and he grasped blindly for a topic that would move them away from their current one. He did not need to fumble about for long, as he remembered that incident with Rodrigue that had occurred shortly after the end of the fighting, and he coughed slightly before beginning with what he hoped was an idle sort of disinterest, "There is more news from the frontlines that may intrigue you. A young girl approached a soldier after the battle, insisting she be permitted to join the rebellion... I have given my permission for her enlistment."

Raine twitched, turning to look at him with both surprise and narrowing eyes, and for a brief moment, Dimitri almost smiled in response to it. So he was still capable of catching her off guard, then. He continued idly, uninterested in any of her arguments or protests, if she was of mind to give them, "When pressed of her reasoning, she spoke of getting vengeance for her fallen brother. She's little more than a child, and will be of no use to us on the battlefield, but her desire burns hot. Considering your affinity for charity... I considered it appropriate to permit her entry into the rebellion, if only so she can make herself useful with menial tasks to take a load from the other soldiers."

"More children scarred by the war... If that is your decision, I won't go against it. On the condition she is kept off of the battlefield. I don't care how fiercely she wishes for revenge on her brother's killer. I won't have a child taking on the duties of a frontline soldier." Raine shook her head, both wondering and irritated at the decision Dimitri had made without her, but she knew better than to argue. It would only make her look a hypocrite after what she had pulled with Dorothea and with Ferdinand, and she had no interest in starting up another argument. This was the first time in moons since she had a somewhat civil conversation with the man, and it made her entire chest ache with the reminder of better days, gentler talks, and topics that were far and away from war and bloodshed. It made her ache and wince, and she raised her sleeve, pretending to wipe away the dust of the battlefield rather than the stinging of tears in her eyes as she continued tiredly, "Is she with Rodrigue at the moment? I'd speak to her, if she is."

"Likely."

"Good... I'll see to her personally, then. And Dedue, as well... I've missed him." Raine let out a small breath, well aware that she had to look as if she was ready to simply slump to the ground and rest wherever her head fell, but ignoring it all the same. There was always more to do, always something else calling for her attention, and she did not want to be remiss in performing her duties. She stretched her arms up above her head, wincing as her muscles protested loudly, but she ignored it as well as the burning of her battle wounds as she turned herself in the direction of the fore of the bridge where Dimitri had arrived from. She offered him one last passing glance, aware of the way he refused to meet her eyes and was still scowling at the ground, and decided wisely it was best she say nothing as she departed at a quick step.

She didn't have to go far to hear the ruckus up ahead, and she mused errantly that the bridge's length seemed so small when she was simply walking across it, rather than fighting her way through it and its soldiers. It was a hard-won victory from all she had heard, with Rodrigue and Warin successfully pulling off everything she had hoped they would and more, and she planned to thank them both personally when she had more time, and a little more rest. They deserved it for their work, as well as keeping Dimitri in line, and she wondered what would be the best way to repay them for obeying her complicated and demanding orders.

The thoughts however were swept away at the sight of a familiar form standing tall in the middle of a small crowd, and unbidden, Raine felt her lips quirking upwards into a smile. Dedue looked so out of place, warding off happy laughter and friendly attempts at embraces and still standing so tall amongst the rest of his comrades, and the only one who seemed capable of being unable to be shook off was Annette, who had an ironclad grip on his arm. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her lips pulled into a scowl as she clung to him, and every so often despite the happy chatter, she would squeeze his arm to her chest, and he would look down at her with a mixture of awkward apology and affection.

Raine watched them silently, listening to Sylvain and Mercedes scolding him with loving laughter in their voices, chiding him for making Annette worry so much, and the words brought a flush to both of their faces despite themselves. Yet Annette still did not let go of the man, instead only clinging on tighter to him, and for his credit, Dedue made absolutely no attempt to try and pry her away. Rather, he coaxed her to sidle closer to him so her hold was not so awkward, and his eyes were gentle when she looked up at him hesitantly. It was a comforting sight, seeing one who had been mourning so ferociously finding hope and happiness out of the blue, and Raine almost felt as if she was intruding as she watched her former students catching up and laughing together as they had in the old days.

She wasn't aware of how long she stood there at a distance, content in simply watching them rather than stepping forward to join in on the din, but she felt herself sigh with contentment and relief. That bone-crushing weight of grief seemed to have lessened somewhat, seeing Dedue alive and well with her own two eyes, though he had not come out of his escapades unscathed. He was badly scarred and was carrying himself a bit too tensely, likely from old pain from his wounds, but there was genuine satisfaction on his broad face as he looked out on his comrades and saw them as happy to see him as he was to see them. Dimitri's retainer he might have been, but it did not make him any less of a Blue Lion, and he was surrounded by all who had mourned his loss, and were now earnestly celebrating his return.

"You're not going to join them?"

Warin's voice at her shoulder made her twitch with surprise, and she looked over at him to see him watching her with those same intent eyes as always. He looked as everyone else did, dirty and tired from battle, but he was holding it better than most, as he always did. Yet his question made her take pause, and she glanced from him back to her former students thoughtfully. She hadn't meant to stop and watch, yet now that she had... She wasn't entirely sure she felt ready to go join them. Annette's happy tears were a good sight for her, yet... She didn't quite feel as if she wanted her own to show, after her own episode of mourning. Especially in front of those who were counting on her strength and guidance when they needed it most. No, she could greet Dedue later and in private, when she could maintain her composure better, and she said so with a small shrug, "He looks occupied... and to be frank, I'd rather not make a scene in saying hello right now. What about you? I know you got to know him rather well over the course of the year, with how often you two were in the greenhouse. Did you welcome him home?"

"I did." Warin admitted with a small nod, and like his sister, he felt his lips quirking without his consent at the reminder. He _had_ gotten a chance to learn of the young man from Duscur during his sister's year of teaching, and though much of the time they had spent together had been over discussing agriculture, Warin had grown to appreciate Dedue's steadiness and his quiet compassion. Only a gentle, understanding hand was capable of raising flowers the way he could, and Warin had been more then appreciative of every act of kindness Dedue had performed in helping him show his gratitude and his mourning for his parents. "Mind you, it was little more than a greeting, but we're not men who like to talk overmuch... And your excuse is you don't want to make a scene?"

"I'm tired... I don't trust myself to be calm at the moment." Raine replied honestly, and she ran a hand once again through her hair as her body ached and groaned in every joint in painful reminder. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself down into the nearest bedroll and sleep for a few straight days, but she knew that was a selfish wish of hers. She still had business to attend to now that the fighting had died down, and though while she knew she would be amongst the men marching back to Garreg Mach, there was a great part of her that wanted to make any excuse to stay just so she could sleep a bit earlier. "I'll speak to him later, when we have a little privacy and I've had a bit of time to rest."

"You've been sleeping poorly lately." Warin noted with a tilt of his head, and his sister shifted uncomfortably beneath those eagle-sharp eyes of his. While they hadn't had a chance to sit down and really talk in the past handful of weeks, Warin didn't need conversation to know how his sister was feeling. She was tired, and she wasn't handling it all that well. Her workload was immense, and was growing larger every time the rebellion gained allies, or a victory. She had taken to skipping meals in the dining hall and instead holing herself up in her room to eat so to give her time for more work, and he was well aware he was not the only person who was noticing her flagging condition. He crossed his arms over his chest as he remarked, "The next battle is going to be one of our fiercest yet, even if your plan comes to fruition. Which it may, considering how... charitable, House Reigan has been to us at the moment. We'll be facing some of the best that the Imperial Army has to offer in Grondor. You ought to spend the next moon catching up on your sleep rather than working."

"And leave things to Seteth, Gilbert, and Rodrigue? Nothing would ever get done." Raine replied half-jokingly, but it fell relatively flat as she admitted her brother was right. She hadn't been sleeping well at all. Between the nightmares, her ever-increasing workload, and the pressure of leadership weighing on her shoulders... She was frequently exhausted, had little of an appetite, and was finding it more and more difficult to get out of her bed in the morning. She shook her head however, offering a forced half-smile as she continued, "I'll be fine, Warin. The closer this war gets to ending, the closer the time comes when I can just rest for a good long while. Mind you, I know that's a long way off, yet."

"From my knowledge, the prince intends on marching straight on to Enbarr after Grondor..." Warin remarked with a further narrowing of his eyes at Raine's words. He had expected something like this coming from her mouth, but they hadn't had a chance to truly discuss it, and so he had only had his suspicions to go on. It didn't matter that his intuition was usually correct, as he wanted to hear her say it herself before he made decisions. It wasn't his way to act otherwise. His arms folded a bit more tightly, wondering if her thoughts were following the same path as his own as he continued, "Cutting the head off of the snake, as it were. And you expect the war's end to still be a long way's off?"

"This war doesn't end with Edelgard being skewered on the end of a lance." Raine answered with a shake of her head, and her eyes narrowed and her body tensed as she looked out past the bridge to the Imperial territory they soon would be crossing into. Every battle they had fought, and all that had happened during her one year tenure as a professor was still completely fresh in her mind, and it made her wary of the idea of such an easy ending to all the conflict they had experienced thus far. It was admittedly the first time she was putting such thoughts to words, but it was simply her and her brother here, and she was safe to do so with him, which made her speak freely, "There is still Thales and his ilk to be reckoned with, once his figurehead is disposed of... And then, of course, Rhea... Once she's rescued, I intend to question her thoroughly about all of this. She knows far more than she ever told us, and the time for secrecy is long past. I want answers. About Mother, about myself, about Sothis... and she _will_ be providing them."

"Have you told the others about this?"

"At current? No. It's difficult enough as it is trying to keep Dimitri reigned in. We should be turning north for Fhirdiad, not rushing headlong to Enbarr, but with Gilbert, Rodrigue and Seteth all backing him, I don't have much of a choice but to follow." Raine replied tiredly, and she leaned back against the nearest wall for support as she let out a long, exhausted sigh. While his current attitude and actions were beginning to show signs of promise, she doubted that Dimitri's end goal was about to change, and she knew better than to put any faith in hope. There was only the cold harshness of reality to reckon with, and the last thing she wanted was to make things more difficult by pushing when things were already so fragile. Yet... "However, if he sees sense in Enbarr once Edelgard is dead... Perhaps then it can be discussed. And if Rhea knows anything helpful, then the Kingdom's forces and Dimitri be damned, I'll go after Thales myself if I must."

"You'll have me following at your heels, so don't be concerned about going off on your own... I'm also intrigued by those pale-faced bastards." Warin's smile was grim as he reminded her of their promise to go together wherever they went from now on, but his hands itched inside of his gauntlets at the idea of finally being able to take revenge on the group who he called responsible for the disaster in Remire, and the death of his father and the students of the monastery. It would be a change of pace doing the chasing rather than the running, but he minded that very little as he mused errantly, "I imagine if you remind a sane man of the truth behind the Tragedy that perhaps he'll be willing to be led past Edelgard, once she's disposed of... At the very least, a handful of your students will be likely to follow you if you set out after Enbarr. We won't know true peace if we just allow it to end with Edelgard. Of course, this all hinges on either Edelgard herself, or Rhea, knowing and being willing to disclose information to you. You'll be more lucky with Rhea, in my opinion, but I suppose Miss Empress may surprise you in her arrogance."

"It all comes down to luck, which is more annoying than anything else in this situation... but it matters little. Once Rhea returns, she can take back command of the church, and I'll be free to do as I please. Hunting down Thales and his ilk is my only plan for the future." Raine spoke fervently, and there was that familiar glint of stubborn determination shining in her seafoam-coloured eyes again. It had been ages since Warin had seen that pure clarity, as too often these days her eyes were faded with tiredness, grief, or longing. Though they both knew that extending their weapons out for Thales after ending the Empire would mean more battle, Raine's will was clear enough. At least if she had to do it alone, she would not be burdened by command, or concern for her students and men. "It's the last thing to do."

"A heavy task, but one I don't doubt we're up to." Warin agreed with a nod, though his eyes scanned his sister closely as she absent-mindedly turned her eyes back to her students. The fondness was still there, the ferocious loyalty and urge to protect, but she still looked so incredibly worn. The chains of command had not been kind to her. Dimitri had made it even worse. Yet, even still, he hadn't heard her make a single complaint. She simply held the burden heavily on her shoulders, taking in more and more until her knees threatened to buckle under the weight... and soon, he wondered when that day would come when she finally broke. It worried him, and he tilted his head to the side as he brought the topic back around without much preamble, "When we return to the monastery, you should look into asking Professor Manuela for a sleeping draught. Perhaps that will get you back into normal routines."

"A sleeping draught? Manuela will likely take me to a tavern to drink if I asked her for that." Raine dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand, and she was idly surprised by how much she even disliked the hypothetical she had presented for herself. In her year of teaching, the nearby tavern to the monastery had seen much traffic from her and her family as per the course of mercenaries... but since her return, she hadn't stepped a foot inside of the place. There never seemed to be enough time for such frivolities, even if some disconnected part of her did miss it. She had taken to the drink just as any mercenary had, and she had proven herself just as hardy as her father was, when he didn't overindulge purposefully, when she had finally come of age. It was one of her few guilty pleasures, but she found no joy in the thought now. A cask of ale wouldn't make her troubles go away, and the hangover the following morning would only make them worse.

"Is that so bad? How long has it been since you've sat down with a pint of good ale to end a long day?" Warin's questions were rhetorical, and he knew full well why his sister was avoiding alcohol, as well as everything else. She was secluding herself in her work, burying herself to avoid confronting the harsh realities she still was not ready to face, and Warin had difficulty in blaming her. He knew, better than any, how much loss she felt from her five year slumber. Everything that had caused the start of their changes had only happened yesterday in her mind, and she had not grown, nor had a chance to move on as they all had. It made him ache for her, for what she had lost and what she was still at risk of losing, and he reached to give her shoulder a squeeze before remarking quietly, "When this is all over, and things settle down... You and I can go for a good drink. Somewhere with perfect ale, a loud crowd, and a horrible band playing in the corner, out of tune. Just like the old days."

Raine smiled at her brother's quiet efforts to make her feel better as well as show his genuine concern, and she reached up to squeeze the hand that was resting on her shoulder appreciatively. He was reaching out the only way he knew how, but she understood him all the same. He cared for her too much, when there were so many other things he could find and hold onto now. But she knew better than to say any of that aloud, and instead only offered him a small nod, murmuring as she felt his scarred fingers squeezing her shoulder again comfortingly, "That sounds nice, Warin. Really nice... I'd like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> And so ends the Bridge of Myrddin saga, and on we go to Grondor. There will be a bit of a breather chapter or two in between (mostly because I really need a break from fight scenes), but then we'll be leaping right back into the action. I was saddened there wasn't much interaction between Byleth and Dedue on his return (or anyone else, for that matter) though I suppose it makes sense that most of his scenes should be with Dimitri, especially at this particular point for him in Azure Moon. Finding out that his vengeance is empty, and isn't giving him the peace he's hoping for from the ghosts that are haunting him... He's not in a good place, and it's only getting worse for him. He needs a hug pretty sorely, though he'd sooner gut you still before taking it.
> 
> As for Dedue, he will get some spotlight in the next chapter or two, as he duly deserves. I had so much going on in this chapter that it simply wasn't feasible to fit him in, but that will change soon enough. The plot is picking up, but the character development and interaction isn't going to fall by the wayside in the meantime. There's still plenty I want to explore and show, and I don't intend to ignore any of the Blue Lions for the sake of speeding up the plot. Everyone deserves their time in the spotlight, and so everyone will get a turn in one way or another!
> 
> As for me, I need to stop writing in the middle of the early morning and get myself some sleep. I adopted a new cat, and he needs to adjust to my schedule just as much as I need to adjust to his! He's a good little boy I found at a shelter, though he's still quite kitten-ish despite his age. Apparently it's a thing with his breed, as well as his hip problems which cause him to have lesser motor control of his back legs. Despite all this though, he's a sweet young thing, and he's getting along very well with Thor at the moment. I hope the good trend continues!
> 
> As always, thank you guys for your reviews, favourites, kudos and follows, and I appreciate every single one of you for giving me and my work the time of day. You really do make my day every single time I get an alert about my stories, and it makes me so happy and so eager to continue writing for you guys. Please drop me more reviews should you feel the need, and I hope you guys have a good one in the meantime. We'll see you soon!
> 
> Mood: Amused.
> 
> Listening To: "The Sound of Silence" - Disturbed.
> 
> ~ Sky


	9. Endless Cycles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: Friendship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy. (T)
> 
> Characters: Dedue, Annette, Warin, Shamir, Raine, Fleche.
> 
> Summary: The scars left by war, by battle, felt easier to deal with when they carved their way deep into flesh rather than the heart, or the spirit. Both of them were well aware of that, and were glad for their physical scars and their hurts, rather than the grief of loss. It was a joy to see Dedue back in the fold, alive and well, but for every victory gained, the defeats they suffered only felt harsher, and struck closer to the soul. Could they continue on? Did they wish to? The questions had no answers. At least, no answers they wished to voice aloud.

**Great Tree Moon**

**Garreg Mach Greenhouse**

**Early Morning**

"Are you here for the flowers?"

Warin couldn't quite help but feel his lips turning upwards at the question from the kneeling man before him who was attending to the flowerbed as if he had never left the greenhouse. It was both strange and comforting to the mercenary to see Dedue back and in form, once again tending to the greenery as if nothing had ever changed, and Warin leaned back on the heels of his feet as he answered with honest bluntness, "I'm here for my usual, yes... but I also was wondering if I'd see you here, after everything. It's good of you to be right back at it... The greenhouse has missed your touch. I'm not as good at this whole green-thumb thing as you are."

"Nonsense." Dedue's reply was as brusque as Warin's and his hands deftly pulled away the weeds he had been removing before he glanced over the flowers that he was well aware the older man had been tending to for the past little while. Though the habit was five years old now, Dedue had not forgotten a single detail of what Warin's order usually was comprised of. He never changed it, especially once he had begun to understand the basics of gardening and had taken to the task to grow the flowers himself, and Dedue was quick and efficient as he gathered the necessary blooms for the bouquet Warin had come to make. He was careful as he arranged the dozen different flowers into a small, but respectable bouquet, and he stood just as slowly and calmly before presenting it to the older man, "I believe these are yours, then."

"They are. You remembered." Warin took the bouquet without hesitation, though he did look Dedue over carefully with a small look of surprise at the Duscur man's memory. It was not as if he had any reason to recall his usual set of flowers for the graves he so diligently tended to every weekend when he was within the monastery, yet Dedue had taken it upon himself to learn it all the same. He was well aware now that the retainer was a keen-eyed man with a much kinder heart than his demeanour boasted, yet he couldn't help the surprise as well as the gratitude. He nodded his head as Dedue looked to him with a small smile playing across his scarred face, and remarked as a similar expression crossed his own, "Thank you. I'm sure my parents will be grateful."

"I have hope that they will be." Dedue answered with a nod of his own, and he glanced over to the flowerbeds that had not changed despite his long absence from the monastery. He didn't doubt that since the rebellion had set up camp inside of Garreg Mach that the nuns and priests, as well as the healers had gone to work in restoring the greenhouse back to its prime, as the herbs that were grown alongside the fruit and vegetables were in great need for the forces mustered inside of the monastery walls. Yet, amongst the necessities remained the small frivolities, such as the corner of the plot that Warin, and likely a few others had been using to grow flowers. "It has... been a very long time. Yet there is much that has not changed."

"Much has, too, however."

"That is also true." Dedue acknowledged with a nod, and he cast a wary glance about the greenhouse to ensure that they were alone before looking back to Warin. He, like himself, had gone through much in the past five years. He had heard all about it from his fellow students, and while he was well aware that much had likely been embellished for dramatic effect... Seeing the mercenary as he was now, Dedue didn't doubt that like His Highness, Warin had had a particularly hard time of it. It seemed to be a common theme amongst the siblings, which he had to admit displeased him. Seeing Raine again had been a boon for him, knowing she had done so much for His Highness in his absence even moreso, and yet... Part of him was decidedly not happy with her condition. Though he was well aware it was not his place, and that he had already spoken to Raine about such a thing... Warin was a different man, who saw things as they were and not as one would like them to be, and he trusted that judgement as he remarked brusquely, "Your sister is unwell."

Warin closed his eyes, taking in the remark like a swordstroke while simultaneously making no effort to deflect it. He was well aware of this, even if he had been trying his damnedest to make things easier on her. She was simply not allowing for it, and no matter what he, or anyone else did, it didn't seem to be making anything better. She seemed a shadow of her former self. A shell, almost, and she was continuing to shrink and fold in on herself with every passing day. Her claims of exhaustion were true enough, but she was not being entirely honest about the reasons. With the battle to come, his worry was growing. That same tightening feeling he had experienced five years ago, before Edelgard had revealed her treachery, had returned to warn him of some catastrophe looming on the horizon, but for the life of him, he couldn't begin to predict where it would come from, or how.

Instead, he could only let out a long breath before he opened his eyes again to look back at Dedue. The man was not a newcomer in any sense, and he knew his professor well, but he had also just re-joined his comrades, and so he was seeing everything with fresh, unbiased eyes. Warin could well imagine what he was seeing. Raine had lost weight, gained shadows underneath her eyes, and was isolating herself from her students and her fellow commanders in an attempt to bear all the burdens that had been thrown upon her shoulders. For her students now, this was not unfamiliar behaviour. For Dedue, this had to be alarming, and he acknowledged it with a slow, honest nod of his head, "I know that she is... Unfortunately, she won't allow me, or anyone else to help. What she needs more than anything is rest, but short of tying her to her bed and knocking her unconscious, I don't think anyone here is in a state to do anything for her. And to make matters worse, the closer we come to Enbarr, the worse she's becoming. And I'll be frank with you Dedue, I know full well where your loyalties lie and why, and I will not call you wrong for it... but even you must see that Dimitri is killing her slowly, like a poison, and she's taking it all willingly."

Dedue averted his eyes momentarily, but he knew better, despite instinct, to defend his liege. He knew full well that Warin was right, as he had seen it all himself on the battlefield and upon his return to Garreg Mach, and to discard it was folly. The relationship between his lord and his professor was nothing like it once was, and that was wearing terribly on her. She was longing for him, mourning for him, and he simply could not seem to see it, or was rather choosing not to. That in return only made it worse on the former mercenary, yet she had not once made an attempt to withdraw from him. She was supporting him against all of her better instincts, reigning him in where she could to keep him and his comrades safe from his own wrath, and that burden was growing too heavy for her to bear alone. He, like Warin, took in a breath before he shook his head and replied quietly, "My loyalty is to my lord... and I shall forever be his sword and shield in his time of need. His revenge is also my revenge, and for that, I shall not try to move him from his chosen path... Yet, I will not argue with what you say. I see it myself, plain as the daylight, that he is harming those about him, with Professor most of all... but I will say that on some level, even if he is not aware of it himself... He knows what he is doing to her, and it hurts him."

"As sorry as I am to say it, I don't care if he's in pain, considering the sheer number of times he's demanded Raine either kill him before he kills her for standing in his way. I won't go as far as to say he's a lost cause, even I can see there is some flickering of conscience coming back to life in him, but it's coming back too late." Warin answered coldly, and he shook his head with a mixture of disgust and anger as he forced his hand to remain light and gentle around the bouquet of flowers he had been given to lay on his parents' graves. He slowly placed his precious burden back on the stone to avoid doing harm to it, and he muttered with a grinding of his teeth, "Even if some miracle should occur, and we back the princess into a corner and slaughter her, will it be enough? Will he finally put an end to his rampage if he has her head? Will Raine be able to see the man she's been trying to bring back all these moons, or will she again be shunted aside? She's lost and drowning, Dedue. And I can't save her this time."

"I do not have the answers to those questions... and I sorely wish that I did." Dedue's answer was genuine, and the remorse and regret in his eyes was earnest as he spoke. He could see all that Warin was saying, and it had crossed his mind, as well, but he did not know what to do any better than his professor's brother did. Raine was singularly stubborn creature, and for better or for worse, she had chosen to support Dimitri, even if it was a poison to her to do so. The pain she was suffering was something she could end if she chose to, but both men knew she never would. She would sooner choose death than turn her back on the future king of Faerghus, and to their cold horror, it seemed that her body was making that choice for her. "I do not support my liege in all things... and his treatment of your sister... is one such thing. She does not deserve his ire simply for being as she is. Yet, if her voice will not reach him... Mine certainly will not, either."

"You say that so assuredly. The first and only time I saw that man react with any real emotion after all these moons is when you returned and showed yourself alive." Warin pointed out sharply, and though he winced for bringing his anger to the forefront when he had not intended at all to be combative with the one student of his sister's that he had almost been willing to call a friend... He could not quite help himself at the show of defeatism. Dedue had more influence on Dimitri than even Rodrigue, which was saying much considering how well Felix's father had been able to reign him in since his recruitment in Ailell. He knew that Dedue had to be aware of that, which only forced him to continue with a hint of growing desperation and frustration, "Why won't he listen to you if you interceded on her behalf? Or are you unwilling to do so, because he is your lord?"

"It is not that I am unwilling. If I believed my words would influence his behaviour, especially in regards to the professor, I would do so immediately. However... They will not. His Highness is in a place far beyond my reach. I know this because he is beyond _her_ reach, as well." Dedue explained in that same quiet, terse voice, and Warin's frosty gaze only made him ache for both his lord, and his professor. He was not a well-versed man in the ways of romance, but he did know tragedy, and pain. His lord and his professor had both known a soul-searing pain, and over that, they had bonded... Bonded to a point where Dedue had seen His Highness begin to waver in his goals in a way that he never had before. It was something only Raine was capable of doing, and he fought to explain that as he shook his head, "Those five years ago, when she was our professor, and not a commander... She reached him once, and he faltered on the path he had chosen, though she did not know it. He was hesitant, remorseful, and at a loss. She was the one to shake him then, when no other voices would have been capable of reaching him. Now, he is set in his path, and deaf and blind to all else. If she cannot reach him again... then I doubt anyone will ever be able to pierce his veil."

"That time after the incident in the Sealed Forest. I remember." Warin let out a long, tired breath, and he reached up to squeeze the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to stymie his anger. If it would have solved anything, he would have hauled off and threw one, solid, damning punch to the young prince's face long ago, all consequences be damned. But he knew violence was not the answer, and so he had sat back on his hands, swallowing the bile and hoping beyond hope that somehow his sister would either see sense and cut her losses, or would manage yet another miracle. Neither seemed to be coming now, and he wasn't sure if that dismayed him, or angered him. Even if Edelgard was to fall in the next battle, Raine was convinced they were not close to the end, and he doubted she had the strength to continue on.

Warin turned his eyes to the flowers he had put away, and he studied the fragile, fragrant blooms with a careful, pained stare. Every flower was different. He never allowed for the same bloom to make an appearance twice in the bouquets he had brought for his mother ever since his return to Garreg Mach, and he had continued the tradition when his father had been buried with her. It was the only thing he could do for them, the only thing besides fulfil their silent wishes in protecting his sister, and now he was failing them. It made his body cold, and he squeezed harder on his nose as he admitted in a ragged breath, "I can't lose her, Dedue. She's all I have left of my family in this forsaken mess of a world, and should she die, I may as well bury myself with her. I love Shamir, more than I can put into words, but if I lose my sister, I won't have the will to carry on living. It was for her and her wishes alone that I managed to shake those five years out of myself when I first lost her, and perhaps I'll manage enough to finish what she started if she's to fall in this war... but afterwards...? Our line will just have to end. I can't carry on alone. I know that now."

Dedue was silent as he digested Warin's confession, and he wasn't entirely sure what kind of response was appropriate to give. He had known all this without Warin needing to say it, but the older man simply could not continue to bottle up his emotions, and here, in the greenhouse, he had felt safe enough to speak the truth aloud. He considered it an honour that Warin would share such things with him, especially when he held his secrets so tightly in his gauntlet-bearing fists, yet it also made him wonder. Warin was a man of action, not of words. He could speak all he wanted, but at the end of the day, it would be what he _did_ that defined him rather than the things he said. He had proved that already, having fought for five years on his sister's behalf rather than for his own survival. He had done it once. He didn't believe he could do twice. If that were the case... Dedue could only question him with calm, concise bluntness, "What will you do, then?"

"Kill your lord if he ends up being the reason Raine dies. You're free to kill me afterwards. I'd welcome it. Raine had her vengeance on Kronya and Solon for Father, even if it did nothing for her. I'll have my vengeance for my sister, since I couldn't do anything for my father. I was hoping to crush Thales' throat myself, for all he's done behind the curtains, but I likely won't make it that far if Raine doesn't." Warin admitted with a cold, empty smile, and Dedue felt his spine stiffen even as he felt a surge of pain rush through him at the words. Raine was not the only one on the cusp of admitting defeat, and it was almost horrifying to be aware that even the most stubborn, the most outspoken of the two was willing to say so outright.

Still, as an uncomfortable silence filled the greenhouse... Warin shook his head, then stooped to retrieve his bouquet. His face had softened again from those hard, sharp edges of defiance, and turned quiet and thoughtful. He was still looking down at the flowers, ignoring Dedue's expression, though the man of Duscur had no doubt that he could still see it from the corner of his eye. He missed so little, with that sharp, intense gaze of his, even when he wasn't paying his utmost attention. Perhaps it was just his upbringing as a mercenary that did it. Regardless, Warin held the flowers to his chest, idly rubbing his thumb and forefinger against the gently cut stems as he remarked quietly, "She still has some sort of hope in her that it's not too late. I've no idea where she gets it from, but I do know it's what she believes. We may have never always agreed on things, but she's yet to make me really question her judgement. For now, I'll believe in her, and hope for the best outcome... but I'll remain prepared for the worst."

"There you are, Dedue! I've been looking all over for you!"

Warin stepped aside at Annette's excited voice breaking over anything Dedue had meant to say, and he watched with mild amusement as the much shorter tangerine-haired girl hopped her way into the greenhouse and over to Dedue without pause. She was all bright smiles at the sight of the man, ignoring Warin entirely, but the mercenary didn't much mind. He spared Dedue a parting nod, not wanting to interrupt the two despite the interruption that had been foisted upon them. He had seen their reunion back on the Great Bridge, and he still had to stop and chuckle to himself at how a girl roughly half of his size had managed to knock him clean off of his feet when she had seen him again. Never again would he doubt House Dominic's heir, and as Annette began to chatter happily to a clearly embarrassed Dedue, Warin took the chance to duck out in silence.

He was met immediately by a waiting Shamir just outside of the doors, and she raised her eyebrows at the flowers he was holding in his hand. About them refugees, soldiers, and nuns and priests were attending their business, making the docks almost seem as lively as they had once been five years ago, and Warin wondered absently if Garreg Mach would ever return to the prime it had once been when he had been a boy. He shook the thoughts aside as Shamir looked to him expectantly, and he offered a half smile before answering her unasked question, "Sorry to disappoint, but these aren't for you. Though I imagine you'd appreciate a whetstone over flowers any day anyhow. You asked what I was always up to on my weekends, and I told you that the greenhouse was my first stop. Are you still interested in finding out what I've been doing?"

"Of course I am. And don't think that just because you know my taste in gifts means you can get away with being cheeky." Shamir's answer came with a gentle jab to the ribs, but she still glanced over at his bouquet curiously. She had known he did have a bit of a green thumb, his sister had told her so when she had asked after him once when he had failed to appear for a sparring match on time, though she had to admit he still looked very strange holding flowers. His rough-and-tumble appearance just made the sight of the blooms look oddly amusing, but he had ceded to her request that morning when he had pulled himself out of bed early with the explanation that he had an errand to run. He had no reason to indulge her curiosity, but he was doing so anyway, but she still couldn't help but ask. "Where to now, then?"

"The cemetery." Warin answered easily, though he watched her hesitate for only a moment before understanding dawned in those sharp violet eyes of hers. Unease followed quickly after, proof that she wasn't entirely sure she was ready for what he was intending to do, and the thought made him smile despite himself. She hadn't known anything about his ritual, and when she had asked to be brought along to see for herself what he got up to, he hadn't thought twice about extending an invitation... but he had expected that she might not be completely comfortable with it when she realized what it was he did every weekend that he was within Garreg Mach's walls.

"Every single weekend that you're here... That's where you've been going?" Shamir already knew the answer to be a yes, but she couldn't quite help herself from saying it aloud as she looked to Warin closely. She wasn't entirely surprised, especially considering how dearly he loved his parents, yet... He was not openly demonstrative, but still he put in effort to make sure he was paying his respects, every single weekend he could without fail, with flowers he had grown with his own hands. It made her wonder just how long he had been performing such a ritual, yet she didn't need to ask to know. She shook her head as she looked down to the blooms in his hand as she mused quietly, "Ever since you came back, then, I imagine... Did you and Jeralt do it together?"

"The first time, yes. It'd been twenty years since we'd seen her grave, so it only felt right to go together when we returned. Afterwards, we went on our own time, separately. But I made a habit of going every weekend, when I wasn't on a mission. I know Father knew." Warin answered with a small shrug, and he glanced northwards, to where now both his mother and father were resting. It still felt wrong to him, having the both of them be buried on the monastery grounds, but he knew he had no right to complain or argue. It was where his mother had spent all of her life, and there was no question it was where his father would want to be now that his own was over. They deserved to be resting together in peace, undisturbed, and he would not change that just to soothe his own hurt feelings. He returned his gaze to Shamir, who was studying him intently, and he gave her the truth as he continued, "I stopped mourning when we ran away with Raine. Instead of feeling grief, I just drowned myself in anger. I wasted twenty years hating and blaming, and not even making an attempt to make peace, or move on. I may have not come back willingly, but now that I'm here... I want to make up for those two decades I wasted. Mother loved flowers... It's the least I could do for her."

"You were mourning. Anger is just another form grief takes." Shamir corrected him firmly, and he raised his eyebrows slightly before offering a weak smile in reply instead of words. He didn't need to speak, and nor did she, but she couldn't quite help herself when he spoke so harshly of his own actions. Especially when he had been nothing but a boy robbed of his mother at such a young age. How else was he meant to react when he was facing such an intense loss? Anger was more than reasonable, as was hatred and blame. She could well understand, and she wasn't about to permit him to perform more self-flagellation. However... She still paused, eyeing the bouquet wearily before she admitted, "Still... Are you sure I should be coming? I hardly knew Jeralt."

"You don't need to go if you don't want to. I won't force you to if it makes you uncomfortable." Warin spoke plainly, showing no disappointment or judgement at the sight of Shamir's hesitation. He could well understand it. A visit to a gravesite for a pair of people she did not know wasn't entirely fair of him to ask regardless of her obvious interest. He shrugged his shoulders errantly, gesturing the flowers in his hand as he began, "I can lay the flowers down and come back quickly enough. It wouldn't be an-"

"It would. I'll go. It's important to you, isn't it?" Shamir interrupted him curtly, and her violet eyes flashed warningly at his attempt to placate her. His heart was in the right place, but she wasn't about to allow him to dictate his actions around her comfort. It wasn't fair of him to do, nor was it fair for her to be so obstinate. It wouldn't be her choice of activity for a weekend off, especially when they came so rarely... but he had been practising this ritual long before they had become involved, and now that they were... She looked away, lips pursing as a hint of pink rose into her cheeks when she spoke both quietly and somewhat grumpily, "I'm not about to get in your way with how you do things... and if you think it's about time for me to be there with you... Then it's all the more reason for me to go, isn't it?"

Warin paused, blinking momentarily at her explanation before a smile broke across his face despite himself. She was blushing, which was a rarity outside of their bedroom, and the sight was an incredibly pleasant one. She usually was so capable of maintaining an exquisite poker face whenever they were in public, almost to the point that he himself could be surprised when she showed affection with a quick, mischievous grope or a kiss when a moment could be stolen. It made him break his own rule of keeping things strictly inside of the bedroom, and he reached out to touch her cheek before he remarked gently, "You're blushing. It means that much to you?"

"Shut up, and let's get going before I leave you behind."

"Whatever you say."

* * *

**Knights' Hall**

**Afternoon**

It was a golden opportunity, but not exactly one the young maiden of the Empire had expected to almost literally fall into her lap when she had slid into the Knight's Hall to fulfil the day's duties. Fast asleep and curled up on the bench in front of the fireplace was the rebellion's commander, a book laying open and forgotten in her lap, defenceless and completely lost to the rest of the world. The position couldn't be comfortable but she slept on regardless, the dark shadows under her eyes proof of the fact that it was likely not a choice she had made of her own volition, but one her body had forced upon her while she had been reading.

For a brief moment, Fleche hesitated as she looked over the woman that she had so frequently heard called "professor" rather than her given name. They had only spoken briefly back on the great bridge, when she had introduced herself and invited her formally into the rebellion's forces, and while her voice and manner had been professional then, there had been a good deal of empathy in her seafoam eyes when she had explained that they would indeed permit her to join the army... but she would not see battle no matter how much she pushed for it. In their eyes she was merely yet one of many orphans and refugees who had lost everything in the war, and though she had spoken gently of understanding her motives... She would not put a glorified child onto the frontlines regardless of her skills and her desire for battle, or for vengeance.

It had almost made Fleche scoff then, but she had held herself in, saying nothing and allowing nothing to show on her face but gratitude for the opportunity, and she had looked about at the soldiers this so-called professor was commanding and had to wonder if they were not children themselves when the war had begun five years ago. She had heard the entirety of the history behind Garreg Mach's fall from the lips of the Emperor herself, and she had no doubts in her mind that this woman was the same Ashen Demon that the Empire had once thought dead, and was now being labelled as the singularly most dangerous enemy to the Empire's goals.

Yet... Fleche wondered as she looked on at the sleeping woman, and felt her hand clenching unconsciously on the dagger she had been wearing at her waist, underneath her clothes, ever since she had stepped foot inside of the enemy's territory. This woman was not the target she had chosen, the blade she wore was destined for that monster's heart who had taken her brother from her, but still... There was no doubt she would be doing the Emperor a great service if she slit the throat of the rebellion's commander here and now, and allowed for it to fall apart on its own for lack of a leader. She had seen how the "professor" held all of them together, despite the butting of heads and differences of ideals, plans, and priorities, and she knew that without her, the rebellion would fall to pieces.

It was one thing however to kill the dastard who had tortured and killed so many of her Imperial brethren and soldiers, as he had earned his death and her revenge, but it was another entirely for her to kill a defenceless woman who was simply sleeping in front of her. She was not a soldier as Randolph had been, and killing had never been something she had been forced to do despite her many attempts at training. Randolph had kept her far and away from the war regardless of how often she had argued of her use, and worse, the Emperor had supported his decision and enforced it whenever she had made an attempt to put her budding skills in magic to use. Instead, even there in the Empire, she had been relegated to "normal" and relatively menial tasks. She was not permitted to fight, neither here nor there, but that did not matter. She would find a way to Grondor, back into the arms of the Imperial forces, and she would put her blade deep in the back of the future King of Faerghus for his murderous ways, and taking away her beloved brother from her.

Fleche's hand tightened on the hilt of her dagger, and she bit her lower lip as she wondered if it would be wise of her to use it earlier than she had initially planned. It would be a great boon for her homeland, there was no denying it, and she would be succeeding where her brother had failed all those moons ago by cutting the feet right out from underneath the rebellion. However, there would be no doubt that if she chose the commander, her chance at getting to the monster would be negligible at best. It would not take long before her corpse would be discovered, and the security of the monastery would tighten to a stranglehold, and she didn't doubt she would be found out eventually. She wouldn't make it far in this unfamiliar territory, and the rebellion's hunters were skilled, if nothing else... She would be summarily executed if she chose the commander, and while she had already decided that death would be her comeuppance for when she killed the monster... Who was she willing to die for in order to ensure their deaths in return?

The question however was to go unanswered as the woman on the bench began to stir, and abruptly Fleche let go of her dagger to instead scramble for the cleaning supplies she had silently put to the ground as she began to struggle with the quandary she had been presented with. Cursing silently, Fleche wondered if she could make a quick escape, but she was again proven to not be quick enough on her feet as the formerly sleeping professor jerked in surprise at the sight of her, hand reaching automatically for the dagger she wore prominently on her own belt before she dropped it in realization. Her seafoam-coloured eyes cleared into wakefulness with surprising speed, and she sat up sharply, looking about to see that the two of them were the only people in the hall before her expression turned sheepish.

"Ah... I'm sorry, I must be in the way of your duties, aren't I?" The apology came smoothly from her lips, making Fleche twitch in both surprise and confusion, and she said nothing as she watched the professor stretch her obviously aching muscles before she sat herself up and smoothed out her cloak to make herself look somewhat more presentable. Her sword rested idly against her legs, further proof of her identity that she picked up without hesitation and slid easily back into place on her belt, and she smiled awkwardly at the younger girl before she noted the cleaning supplies and remarked sheepishly, "I am, I see. It's all right if you want to leave your things here. I'll handle it for you. Consider it repayment for being caught sleeping while I should be studying."

"You'd take up such menial tasks as cleaning? Aren't you the leader of the rebellion?" Fleche couldn't stop the words from slipping out, and she bit her lip the moment she spoke as she saw the surprise flicker through the professor's eyes at her question. She supposed it was impertinent of her. She had learned much in the last few weeks of being inside of Garreg Mach, and she had seen immediately that everyone gave way to the professor, and only a small, select few would dare to argue with her. The monster was one of those few, and yet the professor never seemed to be overly irritated by it. For whatever her flaws she did appear to be rather patient, but it still made Fleche wary as she knew she had overstepped. She did not want to rouse suspicion, and so she quickly retreated, explaining hastily, "F-Forgive me, I'm just confused that a commander would offer to take over such menial tasks... Isn't that beneath you?"

"The monastery is a home for everyone, and it remaining in liveable conditions is a responsibility that falls to everyone, not just those who don't fight. I'm one of the many people living here. It's only suitable that I do my part to keep the monastery clean and habitable. Nothing is "beneath" me just because of my position." Raine's reply came easily, smoothly, and Fleche's brow furrowed with a mixture of confusion and wonder at it. No commander she had ever known had debased themselves by acting like the servants underneath their employ, yet here this professor was, acting as if she was no more important than any common soldier. And she proved it as she continued idly, "Everyone has to work together in order for things to run more smoothly. From the simplest gatekeeper even to someone in charge like me. If we don't, nothing we do will ever succeed."

"That's... a different way of thinking about things, I suppose. Forgive me, but... I never heard of such things before." Fleche chose her words carefully, unsure of what she could give away as she spoke, yet feeling curiosity pulling her forward to learn more of this strange worldview. It made sense in a strange way, yet it also made her question what she had seen when she had been living in Enbarr, alongside of her brother and the Emperor. She couldn't imagine seeing the Empire's crowned heir ever debasing herself by sweeping floors. It simply was beyond imagination. "Where I was raised... The places where one was born defined your life, and the things you were meant to do. The Empire is attempting to change that now, but... No commander I had ever heard of would be caught sweeping floors."

"They're not much of a commander if they won't dirty their hands alongside of those they're leading, don't you think?" Raine's reply once again was smooth and quick, proving her wit was just as sharp as the sword that she fought with. She stood up smoothly, once more giving herself a luxurious stretch before she approached the younger girl and knelt down to pick up a rag and one of the two cleaning buckets that Fleche had brought with her into the hall. She did not ask for permission, but rather simply set to work, kneeling down at Fleche's feet to begin scrubbing at the floor as she remarked, "I've heard of the world Edelgard seeks... A world based upon merit. Where even the lowest born can rise up to the top if they've the strength or the will to manage it... It's an attractive notion."

Fleche said nothing as she wondered at the woman before her, and she quickly reminded herself that she could not simply stand around idle while the commander did her tasks for her. She likewise dropped to her knees hastily to begin to scrub the floors, mindful of where the professor had started, yet also forcing herself to listen intently to her every word. It was strange, to hear the leader of the rebellion speak positively of the country she was intending to topple, and Fleche could not help but question her, trying to remember to be cautious with both her words and attitude as she mused quietly, "Merely an attractive notion...? You don't believe her world is one that can flourish?"

"No, unfortunately. She overlooks the most basic of humanity's flaws, which would never permit her ideal world to exist for much longer than a generation or so. Human greed is a far more powerful motivator than humanity's desire for charity, or empathy." Raine answered almost sadly, and she shook her head as she put her hands to work, scrubbing the stone floor and noting idly that the harsh lye mixture that had been made for the cleaners likely was doing more harm to their hands than it was doing good for the floors. She scrubbed harder nonetheless, putting her back into the work as she knew she must if she wanted to set any sort of example before she continued quietly, "And the path she's taken to create her world... It's not a path that promises happiness. No goal that is obtained by walking a path soaked in blood is a goal worth having. Especially when that blood spilled is the blood of innocents. Those she allied with have no qualms with those they kill, or how they do it... Which means that she is a party to their sins."

There was silence as Fleche absorbed the words she had never considered before, but she did not wish to dwell overlong on them. She was not here to learn of the idealisms and thoughts behind the rebellion's movements, but she would at least admit that to hear the commander's motives for fighting was something worth listening to while she had the time. It did not mean she would ever agree, especially as she understood that it was the Emperor's world that had given her brother a chance that no other world would ever have permitted. And the "innocents" that she had spoken of... There were no such innocents in this world, and to say otherwise was foolish naivety.

"You had said you had no family. That a monster had killed your brother, and you were seeking vengeance on him... Am I remembering things correctly?"

Fleche twitched, and her teeth almost instantly ground together as she fought down that instinctive surge of rage that filled her at the thought of the beast masquerading as a man who had killed her brother. She had known it was him on sight. There was not doubt in her mind that _he_ had been the one to butcher her precious elder brother, just as he had butchered so many Imperial soldiers before. His hands were stained with blood, and his one good eye was mad and full of a thirst for violence that would never be quenched. To kill him would almost be a mercy. He was a mad dog without direction, fuelled by delusions and led by lies as her Emperor had told her, and she answered tersely as her hands squeezed down on the rag she was holding, "Yes... That is exactly it. I've no family, or home... and my only brother... was murdered by a monster. I want vengeance for him... and I _will_ have it."

"I understand your drive. I lost my father in a similar fashion." Raine spoke to the ground, unable to look up as she spoke of her father, and once again feeling that pain somewhere deep in her stomach as the rest of her body tried to do the work of her heart that did not beat. She heard the young girl stop moving at her side, and from the corner of her eyes could see her looking up at her sharply with curiosity and a mixture of anger and pain, and the look almost brought a sad smile to her face. The grief was still strong for this young maiden, and she understood that well... No matter the time, grief's wounds never did seem to heal all the way, did it?

Still, the words did get her attention, and it piqued her curiosity, despite herself. Fleche could tell that she was telling the truth, that sad, pained look in her eyes was too raw to not be anything but honest. It made her turn to look at her curiously, but the professor was diligently putting her attention to the task at hand even as they spoke, if whether to avoid looking at her or simply out of professional attitude, Fleche could not tell. However, it didn't stop her from speaking slowly, hesitantly, as if she feared the answer she would receive after already hearing such blunt honesty, "Did you... find your revenge for your father?"

"Yes... and no." Raine's answer came slowly, and with it came another pained grimace that she could not quite help. She was reminded too bitterly of that conversation with Dimitri on the great bridge, and those choking, sinking feelings of guilt and self-loathing... There had been recognition in Dimitri's eyes, recognition and some sort of understanding, and knowing her emotions and words had broke through to him even a little bit had reignited her hope, but it did not make her pain any less. If anything, it only made it sharper, and she was freer with her words than she likely should have been as she answered the maiden beside her quietly, "Those who were directly responsible for his death have joined him in the ground... and it happened by my hand. Yet... I can't say that it pleased me, or gave me closure. Because, to be frank, I never blamed _them_ for my father's death. That blame rests solely with me. If I was to have true revenge... Complete revenge... I would need to die, too."

"Why?"

"I could have saved him. When it happened... When the blade was swung... I couldn't do a thing to save him. In that moment, the full blame for his death rested solely on my shoulders." Raine answered quietly, and she shook the rag she had been using before slowly submerging it back into the bucket of soapy water. She felt Fleche's stare on her like a weight, but it was little in comparison to the other burdens she had been carrying on her shoulders until that moment. She had spoken of it already, and found it freeing, almost as much as she felt herself wishing that she could see her father again, if only to have one moment to tell him how sorry she was. "It's true, I gave chase to the woman who held the blade, and another who helped to create the situation in the first place... and both are dead now because of my actions. But it gave me no satisfaction, nor closure. Simply because what I had forgotten in my rage was that no amount of blood I spilled would bring him back to me. Vengeance... was empty."

Fleche was silent for a moment, listening and watching with narrowed eyes as her entire body stilled with a cold sort of realization and wonder. There was some sort of truth in the words she was speaking, Fleche could admit to that much, as she doubted the woman before her would look or sound as she did if she didn't believe in what she was saying... but it did not lessen that ugly ball of heat that had turned her heart to rage and justice. She didn't care what someone else who had suffered loss felt... They did not know _her_ or _her_ loss, and it made her voice sharp, and almost indignant as she asked, "Are you trying to turn me away from getting revenge on the monster who killed my brother?"

"No. That would be pointless. I've learned that by now." Raine shook her head as she answered the sharp question solemnly, and she wrung out the rag she had allowed to soak before returning to her work. She knew it was pointless, yet, still she was trying to turn Dimitri away from his wild path before it brought him, or them, to an early graves. She was well aware that made her a fool, but she wasn't about to stop trying. She owed him that. This girl, on the other hand... That righteous anger and pain... No amount of gentle or harsh words would be changing her mind anytime soon. "You've made a decision, and it's led you here already... One way or another, I imagine you'll find what you're after, somehow. I just hope that it gives you the closure you need, when that time comes. As morbid a hope as that is."

"Morbid?" Fleche repeated her words, both confused and unsure as she stopped her work entirely to continue to watch her with narrowed, puzzled eyes. She was having no luck trying to understand this woman, though she was indeed making an attempt to try. Her words were like riddles, riddles that Fleche did not understand even if they seemed simple at first glance, and the stark difference between her and the Emperor was almost too much for her to see past. At least, for all of her sharpness and intimidating qualities, the Emperor spoke her mind and spoke frankly. This "professor" didn't seem capable of the same. "Why is hoping for closure from vengeance a morbid hope?"

"Death is ugly. Vengeance is uglier. Corpses atop corpses... That's all this war has been. That's all it will continue to be, as the killing continues. Each death brings about a new cycle of vengeance. New orphans, new widows or widowers, shattered families and homes... To want revenge for that is understandable, but to find it... It only means repeating the cycle." Raine explained quietly, and she, too, paused as she looked down at her reddened hands and felt the sting of the soap burning in her skin. It almost felt pleasant, in an oddly detached sort of way, but she tried not to linger too long on that thought. She knew she was meant to be pragmatic, to not overthink, but how could she not? What Dimitri was after would cause more harm than good in the long run, even if he was still in the midst of realizing it, but the same could be said for herself and those she was leading. She was all too sharply aware of that. "When the cycle ends, it only means everyone is dead; having killed those who did the killing in return. Reconquering the lands that were conquered. For all the sagas and fairytales and legends... War and battle and vengeance remain ugly and scarring affairs. Which only makes things all the more ironic."

"How?"

"I was a mercenary before all of this began, if you can believe it. Nothing more than a simple mercenary, fighting underneath my father's command alongside my elder brother." Raine shrugged her shoulders back, hand tightening on the rag as she once more began to scrub at the floors to ignore the stinging that had set up in her fingers. It was hard to believe that her life before she had come to Garreg Mach had happened at all sometimes, but she clung desperately to those memories. It was proof of a life before this hell, before the burdens and weights and expectations that had been shoved so unceremoniously onto her shoulders, and it was a life she sorely wished she could return to. Abandoning her students and their cause was out of the question, but it did not make her ache any less for simpler days, and she knew that showed in her voice when she mused, "Death was my occupation, and survival was one of my only goals. Being philosophical was more likely to kill me in those days than it was to do me any good. Killing was never easy, mind you, but at least as a mercenary, I never knew the faces of the ones I fought. Nowadays... Fighting strangers is almost a rarity. Those were simpler times."

An awkward silence fell amongst them, broken only by the sound of the rags scrubbing at the cold, stone floor, and Fleche did not know what to say as she worked alongside the rebellion's commander. Any doubts she had been harbouring beforehand were erased, as she now understood this woman was not the same as the monster she was hunting. She had too much empathy and kindness for that, and for that, she would be spared her vengeance. Fleche could reason that she was acting only as a woman now, seeking revenge for her brother, rather than as an Imperial soldier, and despite it all... She did not want to be a tool for the Empire's success. On the front of war's ugliness, at the very least, she could admit that the professor beside her was right. There was nothing but corpses no matter where she looked, because conquest, ideals, and war brought about nothing but pain even if the end goal was to change the world for the better.

For that and that alone, she would keep her dagger sheathed and allow for the professor to live. If she was to die in the battles ahead, it would not be by her hand, and most certainly it would not be done in cold blood. She deserved a better death, no matter what the Emperor had to say about her. She was not some "Ashen Demon". She, like herself, was just a woman who had suffered too much loss, and did not want to see more. Even if their visions differed, and they did indeed differ much... Fleche could not find it in herself to be the one to end her. They were too similar, and she doubted a chance would ever come again when she could. No... Her dagger was better served being saved for the monster, and not the commander who had gotten on her hands and knees to scrub the floor alongside her without prompting, or care.

They continued their work in silence, only ever exchanging words to swap supplies or catch a spot that was missed, and both remained lost in thought despite the menial tasks. The soap was harsh on their skin, stinging at blisters and cuts, but if either minded, they did not complain. There was no more speech to be had now, as thoughts of the war, of vengeance, of grief, filled their heads and kept their tongues firmly behind their lips. Both had lost too much. Both could not reconcile their ways of living in response to their losses. But it did not matter. The world would continue to turn regardless of their opinions, desires, and ideals, and they would be pulled along with it, for as long as time would permit them to do so. The war was still raging... and the battle of Grondor coming closer by the day. Perhaps then... An end could be found. Though now, neither was entirely sure if that end would be something they could reach with their own hands, and if it would finally satisfy them even if they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> It's unfortunate that Fleche never really got more out of her in Azure Moon, though I suppose that was kind of the point. Unless you played Crimson Flower to completion, Fleche's character isn't recognizable when she appears in AM, nor is her brother, Randolph. You feel and learn for the pair more in CF by contrast, as you're meant to, but without knowing much about her, her impact in AM, while large, still feels a bit hallow. I wanted a chance to flesh her out just a tad without giving much about her actually away (considering she goes by "Maiden" in the game proper, anyway) and more importantly, have her converse with Raine before Grondor. The two have quite a bit in common despite it all, and I wanted to explore that, as well as really push the fact that Raine's not well, but she's still as sharp as a tack, and using that still heart of hers to the best of her ability.
> 
> Grondor is happening next chapter, though I admit that I am still unsure of how it'll be handled in terms of length. It isn't so much Grondor itself that I want to focus on, but more the immediate aftermath and everything that follows the next moon, but of course that doesn't mean I can just skip over the whole damn battle to get there. It's unlikely the fighting in Grondor will last three chapters as the Bridge saga did, but at least two chapters will be devoted to the battle, I'm guessing. As for everything that follows... Well, expect it to make up a few chapters (all from differing perspectives and featuring different characters) at the very least. There's a lot of ground to cover, and I want to make it smack and smack hard. The game does a good job of this in some ways, but it does fail in others, and length unfortunately is where it lacked most. Thankfully in fanfic, that isn't a problem!
> 
> I am however going to post yet another warning before I get into Grondor... and that warning is this: the path that Azure Moon takes in terms of direction in canon is about to take a vast change. This is where "my" canon of Azure Moon and the game's canon of AM will be diverging, so expect a lot of differences, some minor, some major, as the storyline continues. This, of course, also means that some characters will be changing paths as the storyline does, and that some of the other game timelines will be crossing over. If my characterizations, or any of the changes to the narrative, become a source of irritation for you... I recommend that you drop this fic now.
> 
> I know that I can't please everyone, and that I am liable to have some fans take issue with how I write certain characters, or certain scenes, or even with my writing style in general, and that is perfectly acceptable to me as no one in the world shares my exact vision, nor should they be forced to. However, unasked for criticism based on my take on characters, situations, change of storyline etc, is just plain rude and unwelcome at this point. If you dislike my story... Please stop reading it. It really is that simple. I've been in the game too long to have any patience for "constructive" criticism in the form of insults and veiled, "You just don't understand X" comments, flames, and poor reviewing manners. This may be the internet where you are free to say whatever you wish, however you wish, with complete anonymity... but I am still a human being on the other side of this screen, with opinions and feelings, too. Please be civil, respectful, and kind, as you would to anyone you'd meet IRL.
> 
> Mood: Slightly Ill.
> 
> Listening To: "Say Something" - Christina Aguilera ft A Great Big World
> 
> ~ Sky


	10. Sword, Axe, and Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: Action/Adventure, War, Battle, Friendship. (T)
> 
> Characters: Raine, Ashe, Warin, Dimitri, Edelgard, Rodrigue.
> 
> Summary: The time for the clash had come. The three armies of the three territories were meeting again, five years later, to do battle as they once had when they were students. Nothing but pride and academia had been on the line then, but now, everything seemed to be at risk. There was no doubt the casualties would be beyond count, with the melee and the chaos that would ensue once the first salvo was fired, and all Raine could do was hope, hope beyond hope that somehow her words had reached the right ears, and the massacre to come could be averted before the blood began to flow.

**Great Tree Moon**

**Grondor Fields**

**Noontime**

"The conditions aren't nearly as horrible as Rodrigue and Gilbert had been concerned for... That's one small blessing for today..." Raine remarked as she cast a wary glance about the fields of Grondor, noticing that only in small patches had the dense fog of yesterday had managed to stick to the ground. It did nothing to hide the enemy troops that were approaching from the east and west, and their numbers were vast underneath both the red and yellow flags of the Empire and the Alliance. To the forces of the rebellion, who had mustered barely half of what they were seeing now, it had to look horrifying... yet Raine felt no fear, or even concern as she watched the lines forming in preparation for the battle to come.

The very air was still and tense, weighing each and every soldier down far more than any set of armour could ever manage. Death's hand was resting idly on the shoulder of every man and woman present in the fields, a grim reminder of the only permanent outcome this battle would truly have, and Raine was well aware this tension was impacting her own men. Still, she showed no sign that she was aware of that weight herself, and she cast a speculative eye about the skies where she had seen several winged messengers flitting to and fro well behind the enemy lines. More preparations for the melee to come, but that was not her chief concern.

No, instead her eyes turned to the Empire's forces, who had been on the cusp of the field when hers had marched forward, and that had been the only thing that had made her feel alarm. She heard Warin approaching on her left, instinctively feeling her unease and moving to respond to it, and she was glad for his company as she turned her head slightly to look at him as his gaze followed her own out to the forces that were beginning to spread out to further cement their lines before she remarked quietly, "They were here before we arrived... Not surprising, but still annoying. They'll have laid traps, no doubt. Our movement forward will be stymied."

"You intend to funnel everyone west?"

"If possible... The tactics I used five years ago won't be applicable here. Trying for a pincer with our low numbers is asking for more graves to be dug back at the monastery... The more we can avoid conflict with the Alliance's forces, the better." Raine answered with a deep sigh, and she ached as she wondered why she could look back so fondly on the obvious lie that the Battle of the Eagle and Lion had been. It was preparation for Edelgard, preparation and a trial run for this exact moment, and to say Raine wished to teach her another humiliating defeat was an understatement. Yet, she also had to be cautious, as now lives were on the line, and it had been five long years since she had last had the chance to cross blades with the Emperor... or with Claude. "And with no word from Lorenz or Marianne, and that poor scout we found a day ago... Things aren't looking good for us."

"Cut the head off of one snake, and you've only the other to deal with. Claude may be well defended, but he's still an easier target to take out than the princess will be. I wouldn't mind putting him in his place for you, if you'd like." Warin offered with a grim smile, reminded of that humiliating moment after his hard search into Derdriu, only to be summarily dismissed because he had nothing to give that Claude wanted of him. He was indeed nursing a grudge over the young man's arrogance, and would be more than happy to provide his sister with an advantage that was sorely needed when she looked out over the two assembled armies before her.

"I said I wanted to avoid conflict, Warin, not start it. No Alliance soldier is going to be attacked on my watch, barring matters of self-defence. I don't care if Claude sees us as an invading force. Until he himself declares war on the Kingdom, he's to be left alone, and _alive_. Any possible ally is valuable. Even him." Raine reminded her brother with a trace of an annoyed sigh, and he shrugged his shoulders idly, but did not push the matter further. She understood his cold pragmatism, and she even agreed with it on a solely professional level, but she had already chosen how she would be fighting this war, and she could not change course now. Her eyes once more studied the enemy lines, taking in the soldiers and their positions, and she remarked idly with a nod as she took in the Imperial sniper manning the ballista in the central fort, "What do you think about that...? Bait?"

"Bait. And not very good bait. Who wants to be sitting in the centre of the fields in the middle of a three-way melee? Avoid it at all costs, even if it means putting our fliers at risk. Petra can manage on foot for one battle." Warin agreed with a nod of his own, and he wondered if Edelgard was simply considering them idiots, or was hoping for a repeat of all of the same tactics Raine had employed five years prior. It was true that then in the battle five years prior, Raine had made a two-pronged charge that did involve taking the central fort and keeping it in order to lay down suppressing fire with the ballista, but to employ such a strategy now was only asking for trouble. He remarked as he rolled his shoulders, flexing his fingers inside of the tight confined of his gauntlets, "I think she expects a repeat of your battle from five years ago... All the way down to your exact troop movements, if her own placement is any indication. If that's really the case, you've got another advantage on the princess."

"Possibly. She's changed as well, so I can't discount her own growth despite what we're seeing." Raine allowed, but she wanted to tread carefully even though her brother's words made sense. She had not been surprised at all to hear that the Emperor herself was leading her forces from Fort Merceus to engage the rebellion's troops, as it was exactly what she would have expected Edelgard to do, but that did not mean everything else would be so easily predicted. Edelgard was arrogant. She didn't trust anyone's judgement but her own at the end of the day, and so she had come here personally, most likely to ensure that the reports she had to have received of Dimitri and her own survival were true. She believed it could be ended here, in a three-way melee, simply because she had the advantage of terrain and preparation. It was not a wholly inaccurate assumption, as battles had been won by less, but... To Raine, it only proved that she had not changed as much as she may have believed she had, if it was true. "She came here, which I anticipated, but... How far she's come herself since our last battle is something I don't know. Engaging her will be risky, but unavoidable."

"You're not about to set the prince on her by himself, are you?" Warin asked sarcastically, and though he did not expect an answer, the sharp, scolding look he received in reply was more than enough of one. It made him shake his head, but he had already come to terms with the fact that his sister simply would never allow for Dimitri to engage in such a fight on his own. It didn't matter if that was what he wanted, or if he would object, even violently, to her presence, as Raine was going to be there to provide aid, and there was nothing he could do about it. She wouldn't risk allowing him to lose himself to rage and get killed in the process, and the only way to prevent such a thing from happening was to be there personally. "I made my promise and I'll keep to it... but you're still an idiot."

"That's _not_ keeping your opinions to yourself, Warin..." Raine replied with a roll of her eyes, and she once more glanced skyward as the flurry of activity from the Alliance's pegasi and wyverns seemed to be growing more erratic and frantic. It made her brow furrow, and she felt her hand inching instinctively towards her hip to grasp at the hilt of her blade. She didn't like seeing so many soldiers in the air, especially knowing that the Empire had a ballista ready and primed to shoot every single one of the fliers out of the sky if and when they were given the signal, and it only further proved she had erred in not securing enough fliers for herself. Her own soldiers had preferred steeds rather than wyverns or pegasi, and only Petra had showed a different inclination during her days of study rather than warfare.

"Professor!"

Ashe's terse voice interrupted Warin from replying with further sarcasm, and the siblings turned to him in tandem to see him with his bow in hand, strung, and an arrow dangling from his fingertips in the other. His eyes were narrowed and his face drawn and wary, but his eyes were brilliant with battle-light as proof that he was keeping his wits about him as he hurried forward to the two siblings. He pointed to the sky, but kept his voice low and tense as he informed them sharply, "Professor, I've noticed that there's a falcon knight circling close to our lines. They've made three passes, each one closer than the last... They're coming around for a fourth now. Permission to shoot them down?"

Warin turned his gaze in the direction Ashe had looked, and he saw indeed that there was a falcon knight circling about the trees, watching and studying the rebellion's lines from well up in the air. Three passes would be more than enough to have all the information they would need to draw up strategies in opposition to their enemy's forces, but a fourth pass meant much more dangerous inclinations were likely at work. He glanced to Raine, who had tilted her head up to make the same study, and he then looked to Ashe before asking him thoughtlessly, "Can you make that shot, kid?"

"Ashe can shoot the body off of a moth and leave the wings intact. He can make that shot." Raine answered for her student with complete and utter confidence, and Ashe pinked slightly under the unexpected praise. However, his professor was still looking upwards without any emotion, her seafoam-coloured eyes studying the knight he had pointed out, and she didn't look as if she was ready, or even considering, giving an order. Rather, she was taking far longer than she ever would to reach a decision to take action, which made both Ashe and Warin exchange a confused look before she was shaking her head and musing, "No... That isn't a soldier studying our lines. They're looking for something. For _someone_. And from the angle of their pegasus... They just found them."

Ashe reacted instinctively, bringing his bow up and beginning to notch the arrow to the string as he saw the pegasus take a steep dive, but he was stopped abruptly when Raine's hand shot out to block his aim. He looked at her in confusion, but the emotionless expression she had been wearing had turned into something approaching a smile, which only made him flounder all the worse as he watched the knight diving in close enough at range. He could pinpoint the rider drawing a bow now, still a small silhouette in the sky, but if their aim was any good, they could quite easily kill anyone they wished if they were not taken care of first. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand, and he began nervously as his professor's arm still blocked him from lifting his bow, "Professor...?"

"Not a move. Let's see what they do." Raine instructed him firmly, and she glanced about for a moment before realizing with a growing smile that she, Ashe, and her brother were the only small group assembled for a good measure of distance. The knight was coming for them specifically, and no one else. Her hand reached for her blade, but her fingers were loose on its hilt as she felt the men on either of her sides tense uncertainly. She knew that armour, and as the pegasus dived closer... She also knew that flash of pumpkin-coloured hair.

The whistle of an arrow made both Warin and Ashe jump, but Raine didn't even flinch as the projectile buried itself between her feet with a sniper's precision. The flier above rolled a wing in a salute before turning tail and heading back for the Alliance lines, and all three looked down to the arrow that had been fired with no warning, greeting, or farewell. Raine stooped to retrieve it, noting the parchment that had been tightly rolled about the arrow's body, and she mused inwardly that even with the added weight, Leonie's shot had been perfect from the back of her pegasus. She had grown greatly in her archery skills, making Raine smile somewhat sadly as she wondered what her father would think if he could see them all now, grown-up and as skilled as any soldier he could have commanded both as a mercenary, and a knight-captain.

Raine was silent as she unrolled the missive, and she heard Warin and Ashe shifting their feet to glance over her shoulder and look about her side respectively to read what she had received. The message written on the parchment was simple, consisting only of three words, along with the seal of the House Reigan to signify the genuineness of the article she held in her hands. Without a word, Raine felt a smile breaking out across her face, and the hand that had been creeping towards her sword now clenched the hilt in earnest. The weight and the anxiety that had been crushing her chest blew away like crumpled leaves in a crisp autumn wind, and she looked to Warin, a triumphant smirk curling at her lips as she remarked pointedly, "Twenty coins, and the first drink is on you when we're back at the monastery."

"When the battle is over and he hasn't turned his forces back on us, I'll think about it." Warin answered back with a shake of his head, but he also felt the beginnings of a smile cracking at his lips. The sudden, unexpected change of the tide was a welcome one, and he had to admit he had not once put any real faith in Raine's attempts to reach out to the young leader of the Alliance. To have himself proven wrong wasn't bitter or sour on his tongue at all, and he looked back to his suddenly smiling sister before asking her politely, "I assume there'll be a change of orders now, Commander? What do you want our troops to do?"

"You're taking a token force with you to the east. Bring Raphael, as well as Flayn, Seteth, Catherine, Alois, and of course Shamir. Play the goat. You know exactly how, and teach the others what I mean if they're unsure. You remember Father's lessons better than I do." Raine's orders came crisp and sharp, and Ashe involuntarily stood at attention despite the fact that he was not the one being addressed. He watched as Warin nodded in confirmation, listening intently, and his navy eyes flashing with something akin to amusement as she continued on, "If you can, find Claude, and depending on how the battle is faring, tell him what we'll need him to do. I trust your judgement, so do as you please. But, if possible, warn him to stay as far back as he can from engaging any of the Imperial forces. We can take the brunt of their blows. Claude will be more open to negotiations if we prove ourselves reliable here."

Ashe hesitated, eyebrows furrowing as his hand tightened on his bow, but his mouth didn't open as he listened to the orders coming from his professor's lips. He trusted her judgement, as it had carried him and his classmates this far already, and yet... That letter still did not look as if it meant for as much celebration as Raine and her brother were having. As much as he understood the goodwill they were willing to show the Alliance, especially after their aid in taking the Great Bridge of Myrddin, he could not feel the same optimism. There was so much at risk, especially if Claude proved he would use the advantage of exhausted and injured Kingdom troops to take the upper hand entirely once the Imperial forces had been driven out.

Warin caught the look of worry on Ashe's face, and he nodded to him for his sister, who turned at once to see it for herself as she finished outlining her plans for her brother. Her smile gentled, understanding where Ashe's concern was coming from, and she addressed him quietly, but not unkindly as she asked, "Are you concerned they may be walking into a trap, Ashe?"

"I don't want to doubt potential allies... Especially in such times when trust can be our only real currency, yet..." Ashe hesitated once again, lowering his eyes to the ground as his left hand tightened around the haft of his bow. He had been eager to shoot down the rider he had spotted, wanting to do some good, yet Raine's benefit of the doubt had proven better than his own judgement. She would not always be right. The costs if she was wrong... He shuddered involuntarily. The bodies would be too high to count, or to bury. Yet, his professor was watching him kindly, with some same non-judgemental eyes he remembered from five years ago when she had promised she'd fight the Church of Seiros itself to protect him as Lonato's son, and that gave him courage to speak, "If Claude's words prove untrue... What will we do, Professor? Do you have a backup plan for such an occurrence?"

"I do. And that backup plan is my brother." Raine answered with a firm nod, and she looked to Warin, who also nodded and crossed his arms over his chest with a calm, confident expression. Ashe looked to both siblings, momentarily unsure, and she explained for him simply as she saw the unease and confusion, "This isn't our first time having to deal with allies who may turn enemies the moment it becomes convenient for them. This is a situation we've faced many a time in our days as mercenaries. Playing the goat is for the Empire's sake, to draw attention and distract, and if the Alliance does play along, we'll be able to succeed in luring out their forces for a complete rout... However, if the Alliance proves duplicitous... Warin will cut the head from the snake, and the Alliance's troops will either scatter, or surrender. Raphael is going because he is a friendly face to many of the Alliance soldiers, and will inspire trust in our commitment to the truce... but Warin and the others will not be as hesitant as he may be if they turn on them."

Ashe blinked, realizing that the others Raine had assigned to Warin's command were Knights of Seiros and not Blue Lions, who would not have compunctions against fighting their former allies or friends if it came down to an all-out melee. His professor was already three steps ahead, and he immediately felt the fool for doubting her judgement. How many times had she proved since her return that she was thinking of a long-term strategy, and not merely preparing for the next battle? The siege of the bridge had proven that she was never just content with seeing the fight at her feet. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon, as a true commander, and it made him duck his head in a small, apologetic bow as he spoke quietly, "Forgive me, Professor. I shouldn't have doubted you."

"No, I much rather prefer being doubted, Ashe. There's no apology needed. My instincts may be good, but that doesn't mean I'm not capable of making mistakes. Claude didn't promise a truce. He merely acknowledged that he received our message. He owes us nothing, and should he and his forces turn on our own, he has broken no oath. You're right to point that out." Raine dismissed his apology with a flick of her wrist, and Ashe looked back up to her, his bright green eyes studying her curiously and thoughtfully. She offered him a small, affectionate smile before she continued for him, "Being prepared for the worst doesn't make you a pessimist, nor does it mean you've no faith in your leaders. You're just wary, as you should be after so much fighting. Good luck isn't often stumbled on, and should always be looked at carefully. I know you know that better than most."

"Is that what you'll be telling the others, then, when you return to revise our orders?"

"Yes. For now our strategy will involve cooperation with the Alliance, assuming that is Claude's intent... Should it not be, Warin will signal us immediately, and we'll be ready for the flow of battle to change. My brother can handle himself, and I don't doubt he can handle Claude alone, too, should the situation call for it." Raine answered, and her hand tightened on the hilt of her blade as Warin inconspicuously ducked away from the conversation, readying his gauntlets as he left to find his soldiers and brief them on the mission's change before Raine had to do so. It would save her precious time, and Raine watched him leave without comment before continuing on for Ashe, "However, as I said in the beginning... I want to focus solely on gutting the Imperial army's forces while we have the chance. Edelgard herself has taken the field, which gives us a very rare opportunity... We cannot waste it."

"But His Highness..." Ashe knew he should stop, but this time, he could not help himself. He had overheard his professor bickering with her brother, and to know she was planning on shadowing Dimitri's footsteps all the way to the Emperor herself filled him with worry. He already was aware Dimitri was in no state to be fighting such a dangerous foe alone, but he also knew he would not be happy to accept help, especially from _her_. Though they had not been as tense and angry around one another as they had been, to say their relationship had been repaired was not at all true. And Dimitri had made sure everyone knew that the vengeance he craved was for his hands and his hands alone. "Professor, if you get in his way..."

"It's not my well-being that concerns me, and it shouldn't concern you, either, Ashe." Raine dismissed his worries firmly, but not unkindly as she understood the track of his thoughts. She didn't want him to dwell on them, and she did not want to dwell on them, either. She knew the risks she was taking, but that was a decision for her to make, and no one else. She would be shadowing the future king, and if necessary, she would be taking vengeance out of his hands if the opportunity arose and he was found lacking in ability. His mind was clouded by rage... and as he had demonstrated five years ago, as terrifying a fighter he was, he was not as efficient as he usually could be when he allowed his anger to direct him. "Don't worry. Let's return to the others, and give them their orders. Time grows short, and the battle closer. We need every last minute we have to prepare."

"Yes, Professor."

* * *

How had she miscalculated so horribly? As the lines of battle tightened about her like a noose, Edelgard felt a cold sweat breaking out underneath the weight of her armour, and she gritted her teeth silently in anger. She could barely believe what she was seeing, yet she knew it to be the truth. Somehow, without her notice and despite her interference... the Alliance and the crumbling remnants of the Kingdom's forces had established a working truce, and together, their combined might had pinned both her and her army into a box that there was no escape from. She was losing soldiers faster than she could order reinforcements for, and there was no doubt in her mind that loss was close. Their strategy, and the playing of their roles, had been impeccable.

Just when she had thought that the forces that cursed professor had sent to the east would clash with the Alliance's men, Claude had instead personally turned directly west, engaging the Imperial line and drawing out her defensive troops in tandem with Raine's own soldiers engaging from the north. On two fronts and like lightning she had been attacked, and she had been forced to watch with growing horror and rage at the gambit that had been played flawlessly before her eyes. When had they had the time to establish a truce? Especially with all of their messengers having been taken care of long before they could have ever reached friendly ears in the Alliance territory?

Her teeth ground down audibly, and her hand tightened on her axe until her knuckles whitened underneath her crimson gauntlets... She had been played for a fool twice now. Ferdinand's betrayal on the bridge, while expected, had still stung when she had learned that not only had he defected for the rebellion, but he done so under Dorothea's influence. Her friend had turned tail and left the Empire years ago underneath the guise of not wanting to be a soldier for the Empire, and yet there she had gone, right back into battle, to bring Ferdinand out of her command as easily as plucking a flower from a garden. It made her quiver in disgust and outrage. Failure after failure... as if that damned professor was somehow reading all of her moves ten steps in advance, and was countering them without the need to even look at her.

Edelgard took in a deep breath as she banished the anger and returned to her mask of cold rationality. She knew that was false, despite how much it felt otherwise. It was simply bad luck that the woman had not died in the raid of Garreg Mach, and it had been poor planning on her part that had led to the failure to retake the monastery, and defend the bridge. She never should have allowed Randolph to try such a mission alone and unsupported, and she never should have permitted Ferdinand to be on the front lines. If she had forced Randolph to pull back and await reinforcements, the rebellion would have been crushed before it begun. If she had kept Ferdinand in a tighter heel, the bridge would have never fallen because of his betrayal. Two critical mistakes, but mistakes she could have rectified. Now, here, in the fields where she had been so damned certain she would have victory... a third mistake had been made.

She had counted on the professor to re-enact her strategy from five years prior, to divide the lines and force her way forward through with brute strength and the enticing lure of an easy victory, and yet she had played a completely opposite hand. One Edelgard had not prepared for, despite having the advantage of territory, and preparation. All of the traps she had set, all of the men she had sent out... None of them had expected to be abruptly trapped between the lines of the Kingdom and Alliance at the same time. The chaos of battle was meant to be used to _her_ advantage, not against her, but once more, the professor had pulled the rug out from underneath her feet.

The pincer was closing, and the lines were being broken. She had seen it, Dimitri spearheading the wave in the north, scattering her men like grains of sand in a whirlwind, with that woman close on his heels to provide cover and another sword to his race forward. Hubert had sacrificed much time and energy in delaying their advance, but once he had been forced to engage them directly, the professor had nearly cleaved him in two. In a panic of blood, fear, and knowledge that he was not permitted to die there, Hubert had been forced to withdraw, and now Edelgard found herself standing alone, readying herself with her meagre remnants of her guards who would provide no protection against the oncoming storm, and she wondered how in the world she had allowed herself to get into this damned situation.

The screeching of steel through air broke her concentration, and it was followed by an anguished bellow as a soldier in front of her took a spear to the chest. The weapon had broken right through his body as if it was merely paper and not flesh and bone, and he fell like a sack of sand to the horror of his fellow soldiers. Edelgard tightened her grip on her weapon as she watched the man responsible stalk forwards, a lion amongst the men, a cold, cruel smile gracing his blood-flecked face as he pulled the spear from the corpse as easily as he would a stuck arrowhead in a target. His one good eye blazed with a crazed cerulean light, and he was muttering quietly as he approached with slow, confident footsteps, "Stab your chest, break your neck, smash your head... I will allow you to choose your own death at the least today."

"I'm not interested in methods of dying... All that matters is that death takes place, not so much the where, or how." Edelgard answered with that same quiet intensity, and her hand grew still, confident, on the handle of Amyr. This was a crazed beast, not a man, and she barely owed him the trading of words. How could one reason with a creature living full on delusion and lies? She could see no sanity in his face, and she felt not an ounce of sympathy for him as he approached and left her men scattering in his wake. Not one of them have the courage to stand up to him, but she supposed she couldn't blame them for their fright. For his madness... He was still a giant. His strength, his Crest, had made him so. They were right to be wary of him... but she was not. "I've no intention of dying today."

"And I'm sure all those you slaughtered so far have felt the same way!"

A roar seemed to sound as he threw his spear, but it hit the blade of Amyr and went far too wide to be of any consequence. Edelgard leapt from her position on the small, already crumbling fort, axe in hand as Dimitri ran to meet her. Areadbhar and Amyr met in a clash of sparks and a screech of Relic on Relic, and Edelgard felt her teeth clench as her body almost immediately gave way underneath the massive strength of the man in front of her. In pure physical strength she was far outmatched even if her weapon and armour gave her weight and closer range, but he was not thinking strategically as he pushed her back. He was craving only to sink his Relic into her head, and absolutely nothing else. He would not have it. She would not permit it.

Falling into a crouch, Edelgard allowed the sheer force of his push to carry him forward on his own as her axe lifted in unison with her movements. The edged blade caught his back as he careened past her, and his roar of pain made her smile grimly as he turned on her, face a blaze of rage and blood, and his one eye blinking madly. He wouldn't win in this state. All of his past victories had been taken with a calm head, and under the guidance of his dearly beloved professor... but now he had neither to bolster him. He was a mad dog, and he had come for her alone, likely leaving his professor far behind. He would not win as he was... and she would put him quickly out of his misery.

Amyr sang out twice more, blocking both incoming stabs of his Relic and shoving them aside, and Edelgard took the chance to close as Dimitri failed to keep her at bay. Using her axe to keep his lance firmly away from her body, the Emperor rushed forward, twisting her great weapon to the side and lifting it so the blunt side of the edge struck the lost prince full in the face. He went staggering backwards under the force of her blow, his armour saving him from the broken neck she would have otherwise inflicted on him from the power behind her hands. She swung again, knocking him further back and off balance, and his Relic went wide as he struggled to keep his feet. She had her opening, and Amyr glinted crimson in her hands and she raised it and let it fall with a roar of exertion.

A whistle sounded, followed by a sharp crack, and Edelgard felt her Relic rebound before she realized what it was that had blocked her from putting her axe directly into Dimitri's chest to cleave him in two. She whirled, seeking the source, only to freeze instinctively at the sight of the Sword of the Creator singing back to its normal size into Raine's hand as the professor walked with slow, calm surety towards her. Her seafoam-coloured eyes were cold even though her expression was deceptively calm, and Edelgard ground her teeth as she realized that she had failed again in judgement. Dimitri had left the professor behind... but that didn't mean _she_ had allowed _him_ to get far enough ahead.

Yet, seeing her as she was, exactly as she had looked five years ago, Edelgard felt herself hesitate. She hadn't entirely believed the words of her scouts, that the professor of the Blue Lions had somehow survived the siege of Garreg Mach and hadn't appeared to age a day, and yet there she stood all the same. Even her clothing was the same, that dark mercenary cloak and leather guard, as if she needed nothing else to protect her from the battle waging all about her, and Edelgard wondered at what heresy, what miracle, had kept this woman alive, and seemingly unchanged after five whole years of being presumed dead to the entirety of the world.

Raine read her expression easily, and she watched from the corner of her eye as Dimitri struggled to stand, the wounds of his earlier fighting now taking a toll on top of the injuries Edelgard had inflicted on him by taking advantage of his blind rage. She had tried to keep up with him, but he was simply too strong for her speed to match, and she had lost sight of him shortly after handling Hubert. She had feared this exact situation, but she was glad she had come in time to interrupt what surely what would have been a killing blow if she had dawdled even a moment longer. She took full advantage of Edelgard's attention, knowing Dimitri would need several more moments before he would find a second wind, before speaking calmly, almost casually, "You seem surprised to see me. Did you not believe the words of your scouts from the raid on the monastery? Or from Ailell? How about from the bridge? Thrice now you must have been told I was alive... yet right now you look as if you've seen a ghost."

"Professor." Edelgard spat the word, feeling that white-hot ball of rage return in an instant to choke the sense out of her as she recalled that same piercing voice calling her a monster, and comparing her to the real heathens who were all-too willing to set the world and all of its inhabitants aflame. Still she was so ignorant, still she was so naive, and yet she spoke as if she had all the answers, and all of the wisdom needed to lead, and to oppose her. It made her hate her even more, made her wish she had been capable all of those years ago of killing her outright, but that had been then, and this was now. She had grown older and stronger in the last five years as the Emperor... The woman in front of her had not seemingly aged a day. If magic had preserved her... then those five lost years would prove her downfall. "I knew when we met that one day, one of us would kill the other... Today is the day your journey ends."

"Quiet. Save your speeches for your men. They sorely needed it today, and they'll sorely need it after. There's no grandstanding in battle. There's only the screams of the dead, dying, and the singing of weapons flying." Raine dismissed her curtly, and her blade flashed ruby in her hand as she steadied her stance, knowing full well her words would prick a fragile temper and bring full attention to her rather than the injured man behind her. So, she had not changed, even after five years. It was almost amusing, if it wasn't so damned infuriating to see... and she hefted her blade easily with one hand as she asked her quietly, "What will you scream for when it's your turn?"

"Damned fool!" Edelgard roared her curse as she leapt for her unthinkingly, and Amyr met the Sword of the Creator with a burst of energy. Yet the sword held strong, refusing to give despite the difference in size or strength, and Edelgard wondered if it was the clash of the Crests that left the weapons unable to give against each other. It would make sense, as her Crest had been implanted unnaturally, and yet the Sword of the Creator had responded to Raine, but she didn't doubt it would do the same in her hand once she had it. It was all she had needed, all she had wanted ever since she had realized where it lay and what was needed to hold it, and to see the weapon that would have made all she was doing so much easier in the hands of someone who knew so little, and cared even less... Her vision glinted crimson as she snarled, "You still know _nothing_!"

"Then why is it that I continue to win?" Raine did not push back against her assault, instead dodging and weaving about her swings with all the practise of her many years of combat. It was true enough that while Edelgard had gained five years of experience and training, it still was not enough to give her the upper hand. Not when she had been born with a sword in hand and put to work before she had been able to speak. Her father had taught her the way of war from the cradle, and she had taken to it like a fish to water. She lived and breathed battle, with no distractions of politics, ideals or dreams to get in her way. She was a soldier born, with a near-full lifetime of uninterrupted battle beaten into her body and brain, and it was her lasting advantage even against those who had gained half a decade of time on her, and she knew it as she continued to taunt as she circled expertly about her opponent, "At every turn, you lose. At every turn, you stumble, fumble, and eventually tuck tail and flee from me. In five years of unimpeded conquest, where I wasn't there to meet you, you _still_ haven't put the whole of Fódlan underneath your boot and banner. Now that I am here... What makes you think that you'll fare any better than you have without me there to keep you in check?"

The arrogance astounded her, and continued to enrage Edelgard even further. It was a grim reminder of her loss at the footsteps of Garreg Mach, and her old wounds, now scarred over, were aching in remembrance of her loss. She had been young and arrogant, too, and she had paid for it then by underestimating the professor of the Blue Lions... but now things were different. She was no longer an untrained whelp with mere dreams to fuel her. She was the Emperor, wielding Amyr as well as the Sword of Seiros, and she would not lose to this woman, who by some strange twist of fate, had been born with the Crest of Flames. She wouldn't lose. She _could not_ lose. "Silence! You knew nothing five years ago, and you still know nothing now! You cannot defeat me! The righteous world I dream of...! It may be beyond _your_ vision, but I _will_ make it come true! You cannot stop me!"

"I can... and I will. I made that promise five years ago, didn't I, Flame Emperor? Or have you forgotten?" Raine asked quietly, her voice a dangerous, sibilant snarl, and without warning her dance of evasion came to an end as she closed abruptly. She used the same move of keeping her sword on her side to push Amyr away from her body to come in close without putting herself in danger of her range, and her seafoam-coloured eyes were twin pools of fire as her hand twisted her blade, a grim, evil smile breaking across her face as she repeated those words she had spoken so many lifetimes ago, "If I have to spend the rest of my life chasing you in order to put you down... So be it. Nothing will stop me. Death won't keep me from dragging you down into the grave with me. You started this war. Don't be angry with me when I _end it for you_!"

The Sword of the Creator pulsed crimson, charging for the ground only to ricochet and extend back up, point first, for Edelgard's throat. Only one quick shove of her axe stopped the blade-point from slicing completely through her throat, but nonetheless as Edelgard pulled back, she felt hot blood soaking through her collar in grim reminder of just how close death had brushed against her. Behind the professor she could see Dimitri recovering, his hand once again steady now on Areadbhar, and she ground her teeth as she held a hand tightly to her throat... She was outnumbered, and again, backed into a corner. The ranks of the combined forces would be closing in, and she could not hold off both the professor _and_ the prince at once. Not without risking her life and putting it up to their lack of mercy... There was no other option left to her but retreat. Retreat, and find her victory another day.

Clenching one armoured hand about her throat, Edelgard stared hatefully at her enemy. She had been beaten today... but she knew their streak of luck would not last. It never did. The Alliance and Kingdom would never be able to hold a steady truce, and Dimitri was far too wild to lead a true rebellion. Their time, and their numbers, would dwindle, and eventually she would gain the upper hand. All it meant was a bit more patience on her part... and she could wait that little longer for the world she wanted. For the world that was _needed_ to put things right again. Her free hand glowed black as she stymied the flow of blood from her wound with the other, and she focussed on a spot far behind her fleeing line as she snapped out a curt snarl of a farewell, "Fine... You win today... but when next we meet on the battlefield... I will have my victory!"

"Tch!" Raine snarled as her sword slashed out again, extending like a spear, but she was met with air as that same dark magic she had witnessed Solon and Kronya use once before teleported Edelgard from the field of battle and to who-knows-where. Spitting out a curse, Raine pulled her blade back to her hand, eyes narrowing in both anger and annoyance at the flight of another cornered enemy. Once more when her back was to the wall she had chosen flight rather than stay and put her life on the line, and Raine felt her lips curling into a fearsome scowl and she muttered under her breath, "Damned coward... She can throw soldier after soldier into the way of an army of swords, lances and axes, but the moment it's her neck, she chooses to flee..."

"So she thinks she can escape... That will not be the case." Dimitri's harsh voice forced Raine away from her growling, and she turned to look at him in both confusion and surprise to see him glaring out towards the east, where the rest of the Imperial army was giving way to the force of the Alliance and the Kingdom in open flight. It was doubtless that Edelgard lay ahead, likely unable to move herself too far due to her wounds, and the sheer number at her back would prove impossible to fight through. Yet still, Dimitri stared at the only escape route that was left to the Empire, and a wild look was in his eye as he snarled out, "We failed to capture her... but I will keep pursuing. The rest of you, keep fighting. This does not end yet!"

"She's _gone_ , Dimitri! Don't be a damned fool and throw your life away in pursuit!" Raine snapped, both angry at her own failure and at his suicidal overconfidence. Saving him once had been difficult enough, she was lagging in strength and stamina as it was, but she had managed to catch up without the use of her power, and she was glad for it. She didn't have much left in her, and she wasn't about to waste what little she had until she could rest. What was needed was a tactical retreat, not a wild flurry forward, and as she heard the hooves of Rodrigue's horse approaching, she tried to gentle her voice in hopes of reasoning with him, "Rodrigue is here. At least listen to his opinion before you go charging off."

"Your Highness! Professor! Good! We must retreat to the great bridge!" Rodrigue's voice rang out loud and clear as he checked his mount and leapt off in one smooth movement, but his brow was furrowed with concern as he approached the two who had splintered off from the pack in an effort to keep Edelgard and her chosen guard away from the bulk of their forces. He had seen Dimitri's initial charge, as well as Raine's immediate pursuit, but now was not the time to give thanks. He had word from their allies as well as the scouts, and they needed the information he had now and without delay. "The Imperial army is closing in from Fort Merceus. It seems that the Emperor kept a token force ready to cover her retreat back into safe territory. Our forces, and that of the Alliance are exhausted. We will not be able to make a second stand."

"I'll kill _all_ of them!" Dimitri whirled on Rodrigue with a snarl, and Raine winced instinctively away from him at the mixture of rage and wild abandon in his voice and expression. His lance was bloody and his face wild, and even though Rodrigue did not flinch, seemingly unmoved by the prince's wrath, it did not stymie him for a moment. His hand was shaking on the handle of Areadbhar, more proof that he was barely holding in his desire to give chase, and it showed in his snarl of anger and wrath, "No matter how many hundreds or thousands there are! They will not stop me from crushing her skull with my bare hands!"

Rodrigue opened his mouth to argue, only to pause in surprise before his eyes narrowed in confusion as they focussed on something over Dimitri's shoulder. For a moment he ignored his prince entirely, and he spoke slowly, with a shake of his head, alerting Raine immediately to the wrong he was seeing as he remarked with a sudden, worried sharpness to his voice, "What in the world are _you_ doing here? It's far too dangerous for you! Fall back, now! You'll be killed in an instant without a weapon, you foolish girl!"

"Heh."

It was a whirlwind, and one that neither Raine nor Rodrigue were prepared for as Fleche leapt forward from the bushes, dagger in hand and raised. Her face was as crazed as Dimitri's, eyes blazing with wild bloodlust as her dagger fell down and pierced in deep to his shoulder. The prince staggered forward as the blow he had taken from Amyr shrieked in agony as the dagger tore it further open, and he fell hard to his knees to hear laughter, wild, unrestrained laughter from behind as the dagger twisted with cruel intent before it pulled loose for another blow, "Did I catch you off guard, _your majesty_?! I bet it hurts, doesn't it?! But it's nothing compared to what my brother felt! You will _never_ be forgiven, you know! I will _NEVER_ forgive you! You filthy, hell-bound monster...! DIE!"

Rodrigue moved as the dagger moved to fall a second time on Dimitri's unprotected back, his cloak brushing past Raine's arm, and she closed her eyes instinctively to feel the world about her freeze. She had not meant to, had not thought to, but without thought or reason, she called upon Sothis' powers and froze time as she understood what it was Rodrigue intended to do, and what Dimitri was about to allow to happen. He had let go of his lance, letting it fall in silence in the grass, and he had not moved to rise, to block, or even to face the crazed young girl who had come for his life. Instead he knelt where he had fallen, head hung low as realization clouded his one good eye, and quiet resignation took the place of where rage and vengeance had been moments before.

Raine knew Rodrigue's intent, and for one, brief moment, she looked at Felix's father and took in that determined, wildly desperate look upon his face with sympathy and pain. Dimitri was not as much of a ward as he was a son... and to lose him, to lose him without action, would be crueller than death. He was ready, he was _eager_ to put himself in the path of that dagger, and she knew without a doubt that it would cost him his life if he were to do so. He was acting on instinct, not thought... and he would leave behind both Felix and Dimitri if she permitted him to act.

Closing her eyes again, Raine clung to the frozen image as she understood her mistake and accepted the consequences. Too many times already in this fight had she called upon Sothis' power, just as she had for her father... and this was the last of it she could muster. It was too late to turn the hand back farther to interrupt the first blow, and if she did not move, it would be far too late to stop Rodrigue from killing himself to protect Dimitri. And as for the future king... Raine was well aware he would not do a thing to save himself if Rodrigue was held back. It would take too long to draw her sword, to aim and deflect the incoming blow... but she could still move faster than her blade could, if she so chose.

A small, quiet smile played upon her face as the realization sunk in, but she felt nothing in terms of regret or remorse as her feet began to move to break the spell she had cast. The one magic she knew and had mastered, and the only one that would ever be capable of saving the lives of those she loved, regardless of the cost she had to pay to fully grasp it in all its strength. She would break a promise today, and for that she felt a twinge of guilt, but it was not enough to make her hesitate. It did not matter. This time was not like the last, where she had thought her brother would be alone when she fell... He had Shamir now. He would live without her. She, however... She already knew she could not without Dimitri.

Time unfroze as her foot pushed forward, launching herself past Rodrigue and into the way of the blade, and she turned her back, arms outstretched and eyes closed shut in preparation for the blow. The dagger hit true, sinking deep into her cloak, her armour, and into her back with cold, deadly precision. She felt the point of it bury itself deep into her chest, prickling somewhere where metal was never meant to be, but even as the pain and the shock crested over her, she did not care. This was the way it was meant to be. _This_ was the sacrifice that was meant to play out. She was as bloodstained as he was... but her future would not save the Kingdom. His would. And even then... That future meant little to her as an agonized gasp escaped her lips, and her legs threatened to give out from underneath her from the blow.

" _Professor!_ "

She wasn't sure whose voice cried out, but she did hear the sudden shriek of magic, as well as the anguished scream of that young girl as she fell somewhere far behind her. Rodrigue had not wasted a moment, and for that, she was glad. Her body swayed on weakening legs, and she reached up thoughtlessly to feel blood soaking both the back and front of her cloak as she hit the dirt heavily on her knees. How far had that dagger pierced her? How deep were her wounds that she had been ignoring to press on and chase after the future king? She hadn't bothered to look. Hadn't even felt the pain. But now that's all there was, sharp, brutal agony that turned the world upside down, and turned her vision to a foggy haze. Still... That girl was dead, and Dimitri was safe. Her lips curled against her better judgement into a smile... She had succeeded. Nothing else mattered.

"No. No, no, no...! Professor...! This punishment... It wasn't for _you_...! Professor!"

Raine looked up, feeling her fingers growing cold and numb as she heard Dimitri's voice breaking through the dullness that had taken up place in her ears. It was coldly familiar... Quiet and stillness and pain, a broken body and the encroaching darkness, and against her will her body shivered with remembrance. She had died once, hadn't she? The memory was faint, but it was there, brought back with that dagger buried between her shoulders and reaching for her un-beating heart. Yes, she was sure she had, all those years ago... and it made her chuckle softly. Warin had called it a miracle... but that she did not have another one in her. He was right, and she knew it, and she was calm, quietly and painfully calm as she looked up into that wild, staring eye in Dimitri's face as she answered him quietly, "There's no such thing... as punishments on the battlefield, Dimitri... It's just war."

"No! Don't die! You _can't_ die! Father, Stepmother, Glenn... They all died and left me behind... You can't join them... You can't join the ghosts who shadow my every move... Not now... Not like this... Not for me!" His voice was shaking, desperate, desolate, and it made her ache in a way the dagger could not ever hope to cause as she met that lost expression, those anguished eyes, without a flinch or a moment of hesitation. His hands twitched, aching to reach for her, yet he was frozen as he stared at her, limp, pale, and bloody, all because of him. The guilt was an axe wound, a million cuts of lances and swords and arrowheads, and his voice choked as he forced the words out, "This is my fault...! I... I'm the one who killed you... as surely as if I held the blade...!"

"You're wrong... as ever..." Raine chuckled again, closing her eyes for a long moment before her hand reached of its own volition to caress his cheek. It felt hot underneath her fingers, though whether it was from her blood, the warmth of his skin, or the coldness of her own she couldn't tell. It didn't matter. Then there was wetness, jerking her back from those warm, embracing shadows that were tugging at her body, and she looked to see the tears leaking over his face and through her fingers to streak the blood, both his and hers, down his jaw. It hurt, and though her body was rapidly losing its ability to feel, to move, she forced her words past her numbing lips to correct him, "No one ever died... for you. They died for what they believed in. For what they wanted. Your life belongs to you... just as mine belongs to me. Not the dead. Not our ghosts... Just ourselves. I'm doing this... because I want to. Because I can't fathom existing... in a world where you aren't there. Do you understand? If you hear my voice after I'm gone... If she blames you, curses you, cries for you... Don't listen. She's lying. Because right now... Right here... I'm happy, and I would do it again, and again, and again."

Voices were calling in the distance, scared, pained, alarmed... but they were fading. The entire world had gone an eerie, calming shade of grey. Her strength was fading, and she let it go without regret or hesitation. He would not be alone when she left him. Nobody would be. They had one another, they had well-trained leaders, and they had themselves to pull their strength from. She was not afraid for her students, for her fellows, her brother, or even him. They would all move on without her. She had long ago stopped being their reason for moving forward. She could rest easy. She could let go. And she did with a long, tired sigh, closing her eyes and letting her body collapse to the ground.

Perhaps now... She would get a chance to see her father again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Nothing to say that won't cause bombs to fall, but it's what I wanted to write, so I'm happy, even if it was... I dunno, melodramatic? The next few chapters, as can likely be imagined, will be dealing with the fallout of Grondor, as well as Raine's sacrifice, so expect bucket-loads of angst, division, and arguments. There's plenty I need to deal with, and will be dealing with happily as I continue to go on writing. This, of course, is really where the Raine/Dimitri stuff begins to surface and be handled, so I'm sure that will make a few people happy, even if it's not entirely how they imagined it'd start off. Still, what can I say? I've always been a whore for angst.
> 
> Also, just in case I haven't mentioned it before... I am aware of the DLC being released soon, but unfortunately I don't intend to do anything about it for this collection in particular. I'm already quite far in as it is, and trying to write side-story pieces that simply wouldn't connect with the "canon" already built in this work would just be too much for me right now. Writing has been difficult these past few weeks, and I've no interest in trying to make it worse by speedrunning another playthrough alongside with the DLC pack. I am working through Azure Moon as I write, in order to make sure my script and details are accurate, and trying a second playthrough on top of that is too much for the moment. I apologize in advance, but the characters of the Ashen Wolves, as well as the entirety of Abyss, will not be mentioned, or treated like canon material for the rest of the series.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading so far, and I hope to see you again sometime soon. Please drop me a review should you feel the need, and I'll see you again when my next chapter is ready for you guys! Have a good one until then!
> 
> Mood: Playful.
> 
> Listening To: "Fallen Leaves" - Billy Talent
> 
> ~ Sky


	11. The Weight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: Tragedy, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Confrontation. (T)
> 
> Characters: Warin, Dimitri, Rodrigue.
> 
> Summary: The moment the word had spread throughout the monastery that his sister's condition had finally stabilized, Warin had left the halls surrounding the infirmary and began his watch at the exits of the great monastery. His sister's health was in the hands of the healers, of Manuela, Dorothea and Mercedes, and no amount of his concern and fright would help her now. He could do nothing but fret at her side, which was a waste of both time and effort. This, however... His vigil in silence, waiting for what he knew was to come now that the worry was over, and that immediate sense of guilt and fright and shame was assuaged... Warin sat quiet and stoic in the dark and the coming rain, knowing the prince of the Kingdom would soon come his way, and he was ready, long, long ready, to finally meet him.

**Harpstring Moon**

**Garreg Mach Stables**

**Late Night**

Warin sat quiet on a crate, half-hidden by the edges of the stables as he listened intently to the quiet patter of the rain outside that was slowly growing in strength and speed. It was as if the monastery itself was weeping, as many of its students had been for the past several days until, finally, Professor Manuela had emerged from the infirmary, her clothes bloodstained and her expression haggard to announce that their beloved professor was finally stable from the wounds she had suffered in Grondor. Though the exact circumstances of what had happened to her had not been seen by many, the word had spread quickly when all had come to see her laying in a pool of her own blood on the ground in front of a frozen and silent Dimitri, while Rodrigue worked in a silent panic in a desperate attempt to stem the flow of blood and stop her from dying at their feet.

Mercedes had broken rank first at the sight of her beloved professor despite the initial wave of shock that had kept everyone still, and her quick thinking and immediate use of magic had likely been what had saved the woman's life. At the very least, she, with the help of Annette, had managed to stabilize Raine's condition enough to move her from Grondor, and eventually back to the safety of Garreg Mach, but it had been a tense few days since, as everyone waited in terrified silence for the healers to emerge from the infirmary with news of her condition, be it good.. or ill. The monastery's healers had done their work well, though it had left them all exhausted and sick from the effort, and now Raine lay silent and inert in one of the many infirmary cots as the magic did its work to heal her wounds.

Warin wasn't entirely sure who it was that had made the decision to put his sister into a magically-induced coma, but he had not argued when the specifics of her treatment had been explained to him. His sister had already been on the cusp of physical and mental collapse, and her latest collection of injuries from the battle at Grondor had almost been the death of her. She needed time, time that she would not willingly take if she was permitted to be conscious, and so Mercedes, Dorothea, and Manuela had put their magic together and sunk Raine into a deep, harmless sleep that would allow for their magic to work its way entirely through her body until she was well again. They would wake her when they deemed it proper, and knowing their expertise was far beyond his own, Warin had consented when he had been asked if they could go along with their plan to heal his sister to their satisfaction.

Now... He was waiting as the fallout of the situation began to spread. There were already angry whispers in the corners of the hall, mutterings and curses, but few of them were accurate, and even fewer came from a place of knowledge. No one but Rodrigue and Dimitri had truly known what had happened in the field, and neither man was speaking. But it did not take much to put two and two together, and for her students especially, guessing at what had taken place that day was not difficult. They all knew their professor had put her life on the line for the future king of Faerghus, and had almost lost her own in the process. And when Dimitri had withdrawn from them all, refusing to leave his quarters to speak to anyone, not even to check on her condition... A flame had been lit underneath the Blue Lions, and tempers had flared all about the monastery.

Still, Warin didn't much care for them, and he was not about to wait for the mob mentality to fall upon the prince's head. He knew for a fact the prince would not wait for it either, which was why he had come outside rather than retreat to his own quarters where his bed, his belongings, and Shamir would all be to provide rest and comfort. He did not need those things, not yet at least, because one last thing had to be dealt with before he would allow for it. He knew a coward when he saw one, just as he knew a man eager to escape his sins. Dimitri was exactly that type of man after he had seen someone else spill blood for him, and it was only a matter of time now before the guilt, before the shame, spurred him into movement now that word had spread that Raine had somehow survived her trial and was only in need of time before she would be well enough again.

He crossed his arms, pressing his back against the firm oak of the stables as that horrid memory of realization played itself over and over again in his mind's eye. He had been with Claude at the time, discussing the finer details of the truce that they needed to arrange between the forces of the Alliance and the Kingdom, before he had felt that familiar icy claw close around his heart. Everything else had been forgotten in a moment, and without a word to Claude or to Shamir, he had turned on his heel and ran, following the cold and the fear, knowing already where it would lead him, but needing to see it all the same...

... and there his sister had been, face-down in a pool of her own blood with a dagger cast aside from where it had been plunged in her back as Rodrigue worked feverishly over her in a desperate attempt to save her life. He had been reduced to a mute, shaking mess, unable to react, unable to even think past the horror of what he was seeing, and he cursed himself for all he knew, and all he did not, because he had been useless when his sister had needed him most. He didn't need to see more than a frozen and shell-shocked Dimitri to know what had happened, nor did he need Rodrigue's confused questioning of how she had moved so fast, how she had reacted before he had, as he knew the whole truth. Raine had done it again, turning back the hands of time to perform a sacrifice she had sworn to never do again in order to save a man who had threatened her life more times than either of them could count.

Her broken promise hadn't mattered then, and did not matter now, and he promised himself he would deal with it when she woke and was both physically and mentally capable of having such a conversation. She would be taken to task for it later, but for now... The prince was his more pressing concern. And as he heard heavy footsteps approaching through the downpour, he knew his patience had been rewarded. He stood smoothly from where he had been hiding, pushing aside the door to the stables before he stepped out into the rain and into the way of the prince, and he barred his path forward and out of the monastery before addressing him with a cold, curt, "Are you going somewhere, perchance, prince?"

"Get out of my way."

Warin's lips quirked into a cold, cruel smile at the order he had no intention of following, and he stood tall, arms crossed over his chest as he did not move an inch. He didn't care for the man's harsh, commanding tone, nor did he fear the broad, blood-stained Hero's Relic he carried and wielded with such ease and strength. They were trifles and trinkets, marks of a noble's bloodline and Crest, and they were worthless to a man like him. He met Dimitri's unflinching stare with his own, feeling the itch on his thumbs to press the triggers on his gauntlets, but the time for violence hadn't yet come, and he put a tight leash on his anger as he instead continued on in a deceptively calm voice, "I think not. Where exactly are you heading to? Enbarr? Are you hoping some suicidal charge straight into the Imperial capital will somehow appease the dead?"

"Silence. You have no idea of what you speak of." Dimitri's tone was as sharp as the lance he held in his trembling right hand, but yet Warin showed not an ounce of fear in reply to him. Rather, he showed nothing but a seething sort of contempt, and Dimitri felt his own temper eager to rise to the challenge. It had always been him, his professor's beloved brother, who had showed him no respect, no fear, nothing but scorn and hatred ever since he had returned to Garreg Mach, and Dimitri had to wonder how long it had been that he had been waiting for this confrontation, and if he was going to savour it now that the time had come. "Death is the end. No matter how much lingering regret a person has, after death, they are powerless. They cannot even wish for revenge, let alone seek it out. Hatred... Regret... Those burdens fall onto the shoulders of the living."

"And?" Warin tilted his head, not bothering to disguise his contempt to the words he knew had shaken Dimitri to his soul. They had no effect on him. Death had been a way of life since he had been a child, and he did not feel the weight of regret or remorse as Dimitri spoke of. It was true enough his mother's death had drove him mad as a boy, had been a nagging poison in his chest for the majority of his life, but even he had not permitted her death to drive him to lose sight of what he had in his reach now. To focus only on the dead, to ignore the living, was simple folly. "If the dead are dead, and cannot even wish for revenge, what in the seven hells are you attempting to accomplish now? They don't hate. They don't regret. They're _dead_. What was it you told Rodrigue... Using your lips to put words into the mouths of the dead... Is that not what you're doing with your actions? They're an excuse for your hatred and your own regret and remorse. What you do, you do for _yourself,_ not for them."

"That's the logic of the living, and it is meaningless. You know nothing. Those who died with lingering regret and remorse... They cling to me. They will never release their hold on me. So I shall continue down this path. It is too late for me to stop." Dimitri brushed aside the words that pierced him like the cold of the rain, but he could not meet that solid navy stare that also pierced him through like a swordstroke. Unlike Felix, unlike Rodrigue, Warin was as much of a beast as he was, and he was unafraid of him and his madness. He would stand toe to toe with him, with none of his sister's gentleness or her attempts to understand, and he had no time for him or his venom. He needed to continue on. To move forward... He did not know what else he could do with himself if he did not. "Where I go, and what I do... It does not concern you. Move aside... You shall _be_ moved if you will not."

"The logic of the living is meaningless, is it? So my sister's actions have no weight on you? Was her sacrifice meaningless too, simply because she lived?" Warin felt a plume of rage make itself known deep in his stomach, and his hands tightened until his fingers became numb as he fought against all sense to unsheathe the blades on his gauntlets and strike a blow for the man in front of him. He could hardly believe the words he was hearing, even though he knew full well this is what he had been preparing himself for. Dimitri was beyond his reason and his reach, but it did not mean that he would permit him to leave so easily, and especially unchallenged. He forced his face into Dimitri's view, his lips curled back into a scowl of scorn as he continued acidly, "So then, she failed. Again. Just as she's been failing ever since you dragged your arse back here, spouting suicidal nonsense of vengeance and ghosts and regrets. If she had died in Grondor, perhaps you'd be hearing her voice now, calling you for the fool you are, because the voices of the living hold no sway over you. Is that the way of it?"

"You dare-"

"Oh yes, princeling, I dare. I dare do things no one else will because they either fear you, or hate you too much to try and reason with you. My sister loved you, and so she enabled you, but I have no such feelings in me." Warin snarled, and as Dimitri stepped forward threateningly, Warin met him step for step. His hands were trembling now at his side as he held back the urge to start swinging, but it was becoming more and more difficult to restrain himself when Dimitri met his words with such disdain and dismissal. "Don't you look at me with rage in your eye for my sister. As if you care. As if you feel anything for her. She lives, does she not? You don't care for the living. You've said so many a time. The only thing that sways you is the dead. Raine still breathes... so you don't care for her. Tell me otherwise, princeling. Tell me you care for her. Tell me her words or actions reached you, when everything you've done, and everything I've seen, tells me it's not so. Tell me, damn you, or I'll do the princess' job for you and let you see all of those beloved corpses of yours that you cannot wait to join! You won't need to travel to Enbarr to die, I'll end you right where you stand!"

"Enough, the two of you!"

Rodrigue's voice broke through just as Dimitri's twitching hands began to raise his lance, and he strode forward fearlessly to place himself between the two young men before violence could break out. He knew both were strong and stubborn soldiers, and the last thing they needed when their only calming voice of reason was in no condition to leash them was a fight to break out. Both looked enraged enough to fight to the death, though despite the topic at hand, he almost could not blame them. Still, he interceded as he knew he must when he had first heard their raised voices not far from the Knights' Hall, and he spoke firmly, fiercely as he looked to both of them, "That is _more_ than enough. You will solve nothing through this endless argument of yours, and even less through violence. What matters most at the moment is Raine's well-being. Knowing the two of you are at each other's throats... How would she react if she could see you now?"

Dimitri looked away in silence, but Warin instead looked sharply to Rodrigue in reproach at hearing his sister's name on the man's lips. It did not help that he knew what Rodrigue did not, that his sister had taken his place in defending Dimitri and in doing so had likely spared his life as well as his lord's, but he knew that was not information he could lightly tell. Yet... He also knew Rodrigue was wise, and he had sensed something off had happened in Grondor. He had expected to be the one to die in Dimitri's place, and Raine's intervention had stunned and caught him off guard. He knew, instinctively at the very least, that he owed Raine more than Dimitri's life. It was that and that alone that gave Warin pause, but his voice was still cold and sharp as he replied, "I know my sister well enough, Rodrigue, and I haven't lost my sense yet. But you know the same can't be said for _him._ Talk sense into the fool, before I, or someone else, loses patience and decides to beat it into him."

Rodrigue shook his head as he watched Warin stalk off without another word, but a dark, saddened part of him was well aware that the young mercenary was speaking the truth. He had heard the dark mutters, and seen the accusatory glances... The embers of anger were smouldering in the fellow Blue Lions, and it would not be long before it turned into a full fledged flame if something was not done to quell it. Yet, a sidelong glance at Dimitri, who was still looking away, hands tightly clenched and trembling slightly in the rain proved that the young prince was not beyond all sense, but merely grappling with things that he was simply not ready to face. But the time for patience, for kindness had run its course. "Dimitri..."

"She nearly died for a sin I committed... Nearly joined all of the others... because I was just like that girl. What do I do, Rodrigue? Simply permit it? I cannot. She should have never stood in the way of that blade. She should have allowed me to die." Dimitri shook his head, his voice weak and wary, and he looked up into the clouds to allow the rain to wash over his face. The cold stung, hitting him like a thousand icy arrowheads, but he appreciated the pain that it caused on his yet to be healed battle wounds, as well as his old, long-since-healed scars. It was only further evidence of his guilt, of his monstrosity, and yet his professor had deemed him fit to live. "In those five years, she did not haunt me like the others... I never knew why, but I thought it was simply a matter of time, and was resigned to it. Now... I cannot do a thing, Rodrigue. Not for her, not for Father, Stepmother, or Glenn... I am useless... I... I am lost."

"It is not a matter of permitting her actions, Dimitri. You do not have the right to decide what she does or does not do with her life." Rodrigue spoke quietly but gently, understanding the pain that was seeping through the young man's very bones, and aching himself for him... but he knew now was not the time to show his sympathy. It was not what Dimitri needed to hear, not yet, and he was not in any place to give it. He, himself, had been saved by Raine's quick thinking and her near godlike instincts... and her words, the last words she had thought she was going to say... He shook his head, and continued on firmly, "And... She was right, Dimitri. What she did.. What all have done, up until now... They were choices that were made for themselves, and not for you. I know that to feel that, to hear that, cannot sit will with you... but it is the truth. And if that hurts you... If that is unacceptable to you... Then you cannot continue on the path you are on. All that will do is dishonour the choices they made, and their sacrifices."

Dimitri closed his eye, allowing the rain to wash harder across his face and hide the stinging of the tears that only his good eye could now weep. He understood what Rodrigue said was indeed the truth, but it did not help him digest that angry clench of pain from deep inside of his stomach. He had frozen with horror at seeing his professor so terribly wounded, and had almost broken when she declared she was glad to be in such a state if it meant him living. If continuing on as he was meant that she would do it again... He shuddered reflexively. "My hands, Rodrigue... They're stained red. I've taken so many lives... I am indeed a monster, and yet... Someone like her claims she can't live in a world without someone like me...? I do not have a right to live. I do not have a right to be free... Do I?"

"You've punished yourself enough, Your Highness." Rodrigue reached out, settling a kind hand on the prince's shoulder and delivering a small, careful squeeze. He felt Dimitri tremble, for all of his strength and his build, he was trembling like a young boy about to burst into tears, and his chest ached fiercely for the son of his best friend and all he had lost, and all he had done. Yet, that had been fate's cruel hand forcing him, at least for the last five years, and for that... Rodrigue refused to render judgement. He continued calmly, refusing to remove his hand and keeping a close, careful eye on his ward as he spoke, "What you seek isn't vengeance... It is repentance. You acknowledge your sins. You will hold them close for the remainder of your life, and allow them to guide your hands in the future... but if you wish to be the man that your father was, that your father wished you to be... You cannot give up on life. You cannot condemn yourself to death, and to the flames just yet. You must find a reason to live. A reason to continue on for yourself."

"A reason to live...?" Dimitri repeated the words slowly, unsure of their taste on his tongue, and he shook his head slowly as his mind automatically tried to discard them. Could he find a reason, after all he had done? Did he even deserve a reason, considering who and what he had become? He did not believe so, regardless of what Rodrigue said... but still he hesitated in saying so. He could still feel that cold, bloody hand on his cheek, and see that gentle, tender smile on the back of his eyelids and emblazoned in his mind's eye whenever he tried to sleep. It had been haunting him ever since he had returned from Grondor, and he had no doubt it would haunt him for the remainder of his life. Why had she spoken so kindly to him? Why had she chosen to give up her life in exchange for his? He couldn't understand it. He didn't wish to. It simply caused him too much pain. "I don't know if I can, Rodrigue. I do not know... if I should."

"If you cannot find a reason for yourself, my prince... Find a reason for another. Find something, or someone, who will drive you to move forward if your own self is not enough for you." Rodrigue pushed gently, firmly, as he felt Dimitri's resolve again beginning to waver. He could see that pain, that anguish written all over the young man's face, and it stirred him, but he knew he was not permitted to spell it out for him. It had to be a decision Dimitri made for himself, on his own, or else it would be meaningless. "You do not need to do so now, it may take time for you yet, but in the end... It is something you _must_ do if you wish to retread your steps and forge on a new path. You must find a reason to continue moving forward... A reason to continue to live."

Dimitri said nothing in response, unsure if he could put anything he thought or felt to words even if he tried. A reason to live...? It sounded so foreign. So utterly ridiculous. He had no right to live. He knew this already... but there again was Raine and Rodrigue urging him otherwise, and he was so tired, so broken, that he no longer knew if he had the strength of will to continue to resist them. When she had gone so far to save him... Would it not be an insult to her actions, to her, if he chose to do anything but live? His hands tightened at his sides, cold and wet from the rain, and for a brief, mad moment, a memory of a better time, a warmer time flickered through his head.

The smell of a fresh, spring rain, the feeling of a warm, soft body cradled in his arms underneath the bright sunlight... It had been a lifetime ago since he had carried her out of the Sealed Forest and back to the safety of the monastery after her transformation because of the Goddess' intervention. It had been a lifetime ago that he had looked down at her, curled up in peaceful sleep against his chest and felt himself wavering from his goals, simply because his concern for her well-being was becoming too much for him to bear. He had chosen then to overlook it, to overlook her, but that day, those memories, had been a balm to him as much as they had been a curse... and he did not think he had the strength to make the same mistake twice.

'If I hadn't... I had chosen her, over revenge... Would these last six years have happened? Would we have lost her, had I not been so consumed with revenge over all else...?' The questions were salt on open wounds, making him wince and grimace with pain, but he knew it was all well-deserved. He could not know the answers, but some wild, manic part of him wished it would have been so. That he had been only one different choice away from an entirely different future, a different past, and his entire body ached with a pain that had nothing to do with his wounds.

"If I cannot... find a reason for myself... Is it selfish... to choose to find a reason... in another?"

Rodrigue watched Dimitri's face turn back towards the monastery, his hand loose on his weapon, and his body sagging tiredly in the rain. He was so far beyond him, his spirit and his mind having travelled back unbidden to the infirmary, and despite it all... Rodrigue felt his lips curling into a small, sad smile. There was no hope in Dimitri's voice, but he did not expect to hear any. He was drowning still, and likely would continue to drown for much, much longer, yet... His hand was finally breaching the surface in an attempt to find something, anything, to cling to so he could pull himself out. "That is your choice to make... just as it will be their choice in accepting, or rejecting you, Your Highness. We cannot know until an attempt is made, at the very least."

"No... An attempt... is beyond me yet..." Dimitri shook his head slowly as he cast aside the thought, as warm, as comforting as it first appeared. He did not deserve to think of such things yet. He still was not sure he deserved to consider it at all. There was more to do, before he could entertain selfishness, regardless of what Rodrigue was pushing upon him. He forced his eye away from the walls of the infirmary, from where he knew she was sleeping on unaware, and instead back to Rodrigue. It was difficult to continue to speak, difficult to hold himself in check when he was so damned tired, but he did not have the luxury to be so. "I have more to do instead here... Here, and in the Kingdom. I have neglected my duties for too long... If I am to even consider... a life beyond myself... I must first put myself to task of righting my many, many wrongs."

"You will return to Fhirdiad?" Rodrigue questioned despite himself, and for the first time in many moons, he felt his heart lifting in relief and joy rather than sinking with despair and concern. Whatever he had expected from intervening between Dimitri and Warin, this had been the last thing to come of it, but he knew he could not question him overmuch, lest he change the still faltering prince's mind. It was still a massive change of their current course, and it would likely cause division, but... Rodrigue would not lie in saying it was something he had been longing to hear ever since he had responded to the request for the rebellion's troops.

"The Kingdom must be retaken, and this so-called Dukedom crushed... The people need freedom from the clutches of the Empire. Their suffering will not end with the taking of Enbarr." Dimitri answered quietly, and he shook his head with slow deliberation as he wondered how that simple fact had eluded him for so long. Or had he always known it, and had instead chosen to overlook it because the simplicity of Edelgard's death was much more attractive to him than the bigger picture at hand? He didn't know. He didn't wish to know. But to act... He could do that much now. He _had_ to do that much, if he wished to take even one step away from the path he was currently treading. "The snake that I wish to kill has more than one head... Even if I were to remove one head in Enbarr... That still leaves one in Fhirdiad. And another in the Alliance... My priorities must shift... The Kingdom must be freed, as well as the Alliance. Then, and only then, should we return our steps to the Empire."

"Is that the course of action you have decided upon then, Your Highness?"

"It is the course of action that should have been taken from the beginning." Dimitri answered the question wearily, and he well recalled the bitter argument that had ensued when he cast aside the thought of returning to Fhirdiad to free it from the Dukedom before turning for the Empire. The choice had divided his companions sharply, and the few who had supported a straight march to Enbarr had not done so because they wished for revenge. He knew this well. It was not as if someone like Mercedes would ever endorse leaving behind the poor and weak for something like vengeance. Raine had fought him the hardest, only ceding to him when she had realized that no amount of talking sense, or appealing to his love for him homeland would sway him. No, instead she had only been met with cold, biting remarks that she of all people should be siding with him for Rhea's sake, and he flinched at the very thought. When had his professor ever shown anything even remotely resembling love for the church? She was not devout. She only cared because she had been forced to, having been thrown unceremoniously into a position of leadership she had never asked for, nor wanted, and she had never made it look otherwise.

Rodrigue did not voice his agreement, though he could tell from the quiet, thoughtful look on the young prince's face that it was not entirely the Kingdom that was driving his thoughts. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop a smile from forming, before he gestured for the hall not too far away from them. The rain was growing worse, and as much as he understood his lord's desire to remain in the storm, to allow it to clear his head... He did not wish to see him join his professor in the infirmary from illness. Dimitri said nothing, but followed his lead all the same, and Rodrigue spoke thoughtfully as they ducked out from the downpour, "The capital will be well fortified... Cornelia shall have seen to that. If we wish to retake it... We will need a sharp, surgical strike. It is thankfully something that can be done with minimum risk at the moment, considering the outcome of Grondor has left the armies of the Empire in disarray."

"What do you mean?"

"Ah, yes, you would not be aware..." Rodrigue paused, remembering that while he, Gilbert and Seteth had been left with the bulk of work that usually they would have left to the professor, Dimitri had not at all been in any state to be keeping abreast of such news. He had no idea of what the victory at Grondor, despite their own personal sacrifices in order to secure it, had won them all. He shook off his coat, laying it across a nearby chair before he beckoned for Dimitri to join him at the table, and he explained as he took a seat, "Forgive me, and allow me to update you on our current progress, Your Highness. While, initially, it can seem to others that the battle at Grondor could seem to be a loss, the truth is much more to our advantage. The Emperor escaped our clutches, true, but she and her retinue of soldiers have retreated back to the safety of Enbarr. They are consolidating after their sound defeat, and are especially wary now that the rebellion troops have established a working truce with the forces of the Alliance."

Dimitri took in the information silently, following Rodrigue's lead as he, too, shed his sodden cloak to hang it to dry before he sat down beside him. The map on the table before them had not been changed to reflect their current circumstances as it likely had in the war room, but Rodrigue had made a wise choice in keeping him far and away from it. It was too close to the infirmary, to where the others likely were either still gathered, or passing by on rotation, and it was far more than unwise to even think of approaching the area as he was now. It was safer to have this discussion here, but he did admit some of what Rodrigue said startled him, and he looked sharply to the older man as he questioned with a fair degree of surprise, "The truce will hold?"

"If the information that was provided by Warin's men was accurate, then yes, the truce will indeed hold." Rodrigue answered with a firm nod, though he did admit silently that it had not been easy to secure such a promise from the Alliance's young lord. The mayhem that had followed so quickly after the end of the battle had almost made it impossible for a talk to even take place, and only Warin's near-threatening of Claude had forced the man to return with them to the Great Bridge for further talks in Raine's absence. He had made it expressly clear he wished to speak to her and her alone of such matters, but with her condition as it was... Rodrigue continued carefully, knowing he had to choose his words wisely lest he prick his majesty's temper, "It was not... easy, for the promise to be secured, as I am sure you can imagine. Claude is a notoriously difficult man to negotiate with, especially when he has little interest in speaking with middlemen. However, with Raine being incapable of speaking for the rebellion at the time, he had no choice but to either accept Warin as her replacement or return back to the Alliance empty-handed. However, as with the Emperor, Claude sustained injuries and losses of his own, and he, too, had to turn homeward. He will call for our aid when it is needed, and we shall be expected to give it when the time comes. I imagine however, that like us, he will be attempting to burn the Empire's influence out from the Alliance entirely, but the time for him is not yet ripe for such a bold move, especially with the state he and his troops are in as of current."

Dimitri shook his head, both with wonder, and with a heady mixture of appreciation and awe at his professor's actions. He had thrown aside the very idea of working alongside the Alliance based of distrust of Claude alone, and yet Raine had managed to do what had to have seemed impossible, and without the aid of anyone that could have helped increase her odds. She had done it in open defiance of him, and he doubted that after his own display of mistrust that she had reached out to anyone else in order to find aid. It simply wasn't her way. She was too stubborn to be cowed, too jaded to trust figures of authority with their own machinations to attend to... but still she had done what he doubted anyone else ever could have if they had been in her place. "She truly performed a miracle... How did she manage to secure a working truce with the Alliance from underneath all of our noses? Were you aware of her plans, Rodrigue?"

"Heavens no... She likely was well aware she would be taken to task if she had openly voiced her plans to the rest of the generals at the war table, as ridiculous as it now looks." Rodrigue shook his head, smiling with both a mixture of shame, and pride for the youth and her sheer stubbornness and brass. She was no noble, and her actions proved it. She cared not a whit for social decorum even if she was expected to lead both the rebellion and the church, and her every action had angered _someone_ in one way or another since she had returned to take up the mantle that had been thrust so unceremoniously on her shoulders. "From my knowledge now, which was only given to me because she herself could not do so... She had been planning this coup long since before our attempt to take the Great Bridge, and she entrusted this knowledge with only five people."

"Her brother, no doubt... And Sylvain, Ingrid, Annette, and Dorothea. Of course... She used sparing Lorenz and Ferdinand in the battle as an excuse to hide her true motives... Our scouts never made it to the Alliance territory due to the Imperial army. But she had planned ahead for that, and used Lorenz instead to act as a proxy... Brilliant." Dimitri shook his head, both deeply amused and ashamed at his professor's ingenuity. She had only been forced to act underhandedly because he had made it so, but still, even when it was his wrath she risked... She had done so anyway, because she had known it was for the greater good. His shame ran deep, but he had to admit, his awe for her was beginning to run even deeper. How many more miracles could she accomplish, if she was permitted full reign? It likely would be more than he could even imagine. "Edelgard was lucky... Had she not been so focussed on my own well-being... Professor may have well ended the war in Grondor, then and there herself. We underestimated her. No... _I_ underestimated her."

"No, Dimitri, I believe the fault lies wholly with us all. Otherwise, she would have reached out to all of us for aid rather than choosing to work in secret." Rodrigue spoke kindly but not dishonestly, and his eyes flickered with both humour and sadness to know that the woman they had forced to lead had never once been truly trusted by all of them all this time. She had been torn too many ways, trying to please too many people and their wants, and rarely had a choice she made gone unchallenged, regardless of how small, or large it had been. The burden of leadership had not been kind to her. It made perfect sense that instead of confiding, or trusting, in her generals that she had turned to her students when she had needed aid. Only they had ever shown her complete trust and faith, and it was what she needed if she wanted to have her schemes succeed for all of their betterment. "With Seteth pushing for the good of the church, and Gilbert pushing solely for your sake, and myself as an apparently "neutral" third party... It's little wonder she fell back on those she knew would have no ulterior motives, or reason to disagree based on differing loyalties. That is not something she should have been forced into doing, which is something we can all take the blame for. We owe her much for what happened in Grondor... All of us do."

"Which makes me wonder if any will listen to me, when it comes to changing course." Dimitri admitted with a slow, painful shake of his head as he stared absently at the map in front of him. Sylvain, Ingrid, and Annette had proven already where their priorities, and loyalties now lay. They had chosen their professor rather than him, and he could understand their allegiance and bore them no ill will... but it also made him wary of the fact that if and when he attempted to step into her shoes to command, even if he was choosing to do what most had argued for in the very beginning... "She led these men all of this time. Not me. They have no reason to follow my orders, and even less to trust me now. Outside of blind loyalty to a liege, which means less than nothing, I'm afraid that when the time comes... I will not have any support."

"This is true. You will likely have a reception of cold mistrust when you air your change of heart... but that is a trial you must go through to prove yourself honest, and worthy of a second chance." Rodrigue hated to speak so coldly and painfully of what his majesty was to go through, but he knew it was important to be honest. He would not be like Gilbert and allow his failure in protecting Lambert to cloud his judgement. If he wished to cleave to his word, he would need to be both stern and kind, rather than enabling. It was a thin rope to walk, even more difficult to see, let alone navigate, but he would do his best all the same, and so he continued on firmly, "You will _earn_ back the trust of your comrades with both your words and your actions. Explain your plans. Your motivations. You must be honest, even if it hurts you... No, especially if it will cause you harm. They will rally about you, if given time to forgive, and if they are able to see that you will not betray their trust."

"You think it that simple, Rodrigue?" Dimitri almost chuckled, but the laugh was hallow and bitter. That hatred in Warin's eyes, and the venom that had dripped from his tongue... It had been all too real, and all too well-deserved. It was true, Warin was Raine's only family left in the world, and it was his duty to protect her... but he was no fool. That loyalty and love was not for Warin and Warin alone. All of the Blue Lions, at one time or another, had been given reason to feel exactly as Warin did for their professor. Her treatment at his hands had already fostered mistrust and discomfort. What had happened in Grondor was a sin that went far beyond the pale. If he received no forgiveness... He had no right to complain, or be surprised. "Warin's sentiments will not be his alone... At the very least, her chosen trio of knights will be the last to show me sympathy, and the first to object to my leadership."

"And they will be right to, do you not think so?" Rodrigue did not need an answer, as he could see it clearly painted across Dimitri's face, and it gave him relief to know he was not about to be argued with. Dimitri's shame ran deep, but with it came self-awareness, and that was something he deeply needed if he was to continue forward. There were many harsh truths his liege would be facing in the coming days, but it would all be necessary trials for him, and Rodrigue firmly believed they would make him a better man, and a better king, when all was said and done. "The shoes you hope to fill are large, even for you... but fill them you must, as no one else can do so. While we have confirmation now that your professor will make an eventual recovery... We do not know how long it will take before she will return to her duties. It is up to you to walk her path for her now."

"Heh... And that alone sounds even more insurmountable than anything you have laid out in front of me so far..." Again, Dimitri's laughter was hallow, but his one, good eye was no longer dim. The challenge he faced was not one he believed he could conquer, not alone, but he knew he had to make those first steps without guidance or support. He would only be branded a coward, and rightfully so, if he did not try to stand alone under the weight of his sins. More than anything, when she woke, he wanted her to see a world changed... A world where she was no longer struggling under the burdens he had cast aside for her to carry for him. "But it is what it is... And I will do so to the best of my ability. If I didn't... I would never be able to face her again."

Rodrigue was silent as he watched Dimitri stare quietly at the map ahead of him, clearly not seeing it and lost deep in thought, and he could not help but wonder. Felix had spoken more of himself than anyone else when he had been back in his territory, barring the passing mention of how deeply he wanted to take Sylvain to task for one thing or another, but the one thing he had mentioned, and had mentioned with seriousness was that he had found one person, and one person only who was capable of "chaining the boar". In all his time at the academy, he hadn't believed it was possible, that someone could keep Dimitri at a firm heel, and yet he had spoken with confidence that their new professor, unpolished and unprofessional as she was... had the capacity to leash Lambert's son in a way no one else had managed. Rodrigue had not understood what Felix had meant then, but as he looked to Dimitri now, he was beginning to.

'Felix called it chaining... He was young and naive, then. Would he call what Miss Matritz has done to him chaining as well, I wonder...?' Rodrigue sat up a little more firmly in his chair, wincing despite himself as he knew this was a dangerous topic to broach, but it was one that he needed to speak of before he could allow Dimitri his privacy. It was the one thing that was now separating him from the rest of his comrades, if only because it was unspoken and not acted upon, but the man he had reconnected with several moons prior was not the one sitting across from him now. He could not be kind. He had to be frank, even it if meant pulling at wounds that simply were not ready to begin to heal. He kept his voice calm and measured, but his eyes were sharp as they studied Dimitri closely, "Your Highness... Your reason... The "another", you spoke of... Is it her, Dimitri? Is she the one who drives you? Is it she who will be the one to give you reason to live?"

"Whether or not she is, Rodrigue... I do not believe it matters now. There are other things... More pressing things... That must be attended to first." Dimitri shook his head slowly as he refused to answer, though he knew it foolish to dodge the question anyway. Rodrigue would see right through him, just as he always had, but he still could not give voice to the truth. Not yet. It simply was not the time. Admitting it now meant nothing. Not until he had taken steps away from who he had been, and what he had done. His sins would haunt him for a lifetime, and after death, the flames would welcome him as he knew they must. No amount of redemption would cleanse him, and he would accept that fact without a fight. Yet... If he was to even entertain the thought of happiness, of peace... He wanted to have something tangible, something _real,_ to give to her first. It did not matter if she never accepted him. It did not matter if she never forgave him. But he would change, and he would ease her burdens... because it was all he could do to prove that his words were not empty. "Until that time comes... I would ask you to not speak of this again, Rodrigue."

"Of course, Your Highness. Forgive my impertinence." Rodrigue nodded and accepted the request without hesitation, but still he felt his heart aching. His prince was still so young, but so scarred and embittered. His fatalism had trapped him for almost nine long years now, and it would take time, time and a gentle hand, before he would be able to lift his head with any even remote semblance of pride. Perhaps when she woke, she would return to the task she had set for herself, but there was always the chance that she would not. She had done more than anyone else would have ever done, and it would not be wrong of her to wash her hands if she so chose now. He knew it as well as Dimitri did, which more than explained his hesitancy, and his unwillingness to have even the slightest iota of hope. Yet... His actions, and his words still betrayed him, just as they had betrayed her, the first time they had spoken at length. 'But your hope is not unfounded... You may be surprised yet, my prince... And for the sakes of the both of you, I will hope for that exact outcome...'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> My biggest issue with Rodrigue was his untimely death, as well as the catalyst that his death served. Despite it helping massively with the shipping goggles when it comes to Dimitri/Byleth, the entire "talk in the rain" scene lacked the punch it needed because Byleth simply is not Rodrigue. Byleth is not someone who knows, intimately, just who Dimitri is, and what he has suffered and lost. As open and as kind as Byleth is for Dimitri, in that moment, kindness is not what he needs. As much as his character growth relies upon this scene, as well as the others that follow (and came before), Dimitri coming to these conclusions on his own are hard to swallow. He is still reeling from grief, and despite being told to "find a reason to live", he simply is in no mental state to do so without harder pressing that Byleth simply doesn't deliver.
> 
> An argument can be made however that Raine is not Byleth, and therefore should be capable of giving that swift and stern guidance... Or Warin, at the very least could do so, but that isn't how I wanted Dimitri's growth to be facilitated. (It doesn't help that Warin would sooner gut Dimitri at this moment than provide a helping hand anyway...) Rodrigue deserved better than what he got in Azure Moon, and therefore I refuse to allow him to have to die simply to be kickstart Dimitri's character arc. I have never liked the "stuffing in the fridge" type tropes, and Rodrigue is a good character who deserved more screentime, and a chance to really interact and guide Dimitri both during his manic phase, and in his more calm, reserved, and repenting phase. Having Byleth be his sole guide is too much of a burden to put on the both of them, and Byleth was under more than enough stress as it was without cause or care for their mental health. And to be frank, the less said about Gilbert as an advisor, the better.
> 
> This, of course, also leads into what will be a "problem" to face in the next chapter (or chapters)... The acceptance of Dimitri's change of heart. A common complaint for AM, which I share, just to be completely honest, is that Dimitri's arc came about too quickly, and with far too much acceptance. Felix's anger was a momentary comment that was brushed aside too quickly, and while AM is longer than CF, it still misses a lot of heavier moments in lieu of rushing through the campaign. Of course, now that my version of AM is off the rails... Creative freedom means I get to address a lot of the finer points that were glossed over, or simply never brought up.
> 
> Regardless, I intend to continue on, but we'll likely be staying in Harpstring Moon for at least three more chapters before moving on to the next bit. There's a lot to cover, both plot-wise and for character development, and we're all aware that's where I shine more than in combat scenes. So, until next time...! I thank you as always for reading, please drop a review should you feel the need, and I'll see you again soon!
> 
> Mood: Homesick.
> 
> Listening To: "The Ballad of Mona Lisa" - Panic At The Disco
> 
> ~ Sky


	12. Words to Be Spoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Family, Romance, Angst. (M)
> 
> Characters: Ingrid, Sylvain, Ashe, Petra, Felix, Dimitri.
> 
> Summary: It had been only a week since their return from Grondor, but much had changed already in those seven days. Ingrid had seen it all, eagle-eyed and tense, and so many conflicting feelings ran through both her heart and mind as she wondered at it all. To see her future king returning to reason should have been a joy, but it brought her nothing but a harsh feeling of emptiness and anger. And to look around at her comrades, and see their expressions mirroring her own... It was a harsh vindication. Loss had come too close for them, far too close, and now all of them were dealing with it the only way they knew how. They all could be dead tomorrow, and that was a lesson they had thought had already been drilled tightly into them... but apparently it was not. Nobody had expected their dear professor to brush again with death. What did it mean for the rest of them...? What did it mean for the things they still were not saying, in hopes of an "after" the end of a war they may not survive?

**Harpstring Moon**

**Garreg Mach Infirmary**

**Noon**

"It's been so hectic, Professor... I doubt you'd be approving, if you could see us all right now, but... I think, for the first time in many moons, everyone is finally being honest with themselves..." Ingrid's voice was quiet as she sat on the single chair that had been placed beside her professor's bed, and she watched with soft, worried eyes as her professor slept on beside her, completely numb to the outside world due to the sheer amount of magic that had been poured into her flagging body to keep her asleep. She hadn't agreed at first with the decision that Professor Manuela, Mercedes and Dorothea had come to when they had chosen this route in healing the beloved woman, but as she sat close to her and examined her closely now... Ingrid had to admit that they had been right in choosing to keep Raine unconscious until her body was well and truly on its way to a proper recovery.

Her professor had lost weight, and become quite thin. She had hidden it well with her cloak and clothes in the past several moons, making herself seem as healthy as ever, but now without most of her usual wear, it was quite obvious to see. Her body, also, was a mess of scars. When she had first been disrobed off of the battlefield, there hadn't been a single soul who hadn't recoiled in alarm to see just how many wounds she had been hiding underneath tight layers of bandaging and fabric. It was as if she had been purposefully avoiding the healers ever since she had returned to them during the Millennium Festival and was treating her own wounds by herself, and for the life of her, Ingrid couldn't understand why she would have been doing such a foolish thing. Her professor was a wise woman, and one who knew her strengths and weaknesses, and yet she had not been taking even an iota of care of herself to the point where nobody had even noticed until her condition had been dragged out into the open without her consent.

Though the dagger wound in her back at been the chief concern during her healing, the rest of her body was likewise a mess of wounds and insufficient care, and only time and magic would be of any help to her now. With the combined efforts of the monastery's best healers, and a good amount of time, they promised that once Raine woke, she would be near her best condition if she were to be left alone during the process. That, of course, had been the only thing that not a single one of the Blue Lions could agree to, and ever since she had been committed to the infirmary, there had been an unofficial rotation of visitors streaming constantly from her new quarters to ensure her rest was being uninterrupted, as well as to ease their selfish worries.

Ingrid had taken her turn now, though she admitted she wasn't entirely sure why. She felt impatient, restless, and for the life of her, she did not quite understand what it was that was making her feel this way. She had thought she had given voice to all of her opinions earlier that week, when her king had finally come out of hiding to approach his former classmates, and had been met with a response no one had likely ever expected when he had offered his apologies, as well as a change in plans that had been the hopes of most there from the very start.

_"I wish to apologize. To all of you. I have dragged you all down this dark path with me, and have caused untold suffering all along the way... I cannot tell you how sorry I am for my behaviour. For my actions. There is no apology I could offer that would ever be sufficient... but these words are all I have. These words, and a promise that I will no longer chase down the path of vengeance. I intend to turn our course to Fhirdiad... To take back the Kingdom, as I should have done from the very beginning. I ask of you to join me one last time to do so... Though I know, to ask anything of you now, is not within my right to do. Not until I have apologized a thousand times over, and proven myself capable, and trustworthy again to you all."_

_"No."_

_All turned in surprise at the voice who had spoken first, and Ingrid wasn't sure whether she was more alarmed, or confused, to see that it was Sylvain and not Felix who had been the one to break the silence after Dimitri had given his apologies, and professed his change of heart and mind. Had they been waiting for someone to reject him, because no one else was brave enough to do so? It wasn't as if any of them had managed to speak more than a handful of sentences to the man since his return several moons prior without being met with derision, dismissal, or outright threats. Now, a new, unnerving silence fell at Sylvain's rejection, and all eyes turned to him in quiet, uneasy confusion, including those of their lord, as they waited. He was not the type to simply say one word and leave, all of them knew this of him by now, but for the life of them all, no one could guess what was in his mind as they looked to him to continue._

_The crimson-haired knight didn't move from where he was standing, leaning on a nearby pillar with his arms crossed, but his usual calm and carefree expression had changed to something darker, and far more serious. His eyes were narrowed and his brow deeply furrowed, and though his posture remained lax, his voice was as sharp as a dagger when he continued after a full minute of uneasy, shaken silence, "That's nice and all, Your Majesty... but no. I'm not following you another step forward, regardless of where you've decided it's time to go. Even if it_ is _back to Fhirdiad. I, for one, am finished with this, as well as with you. An apology_ isn't _enough to make up for everything you've done. And not just to us, but to the professor, too. We're your knights and noblemen, and we're expected by code and by blood to obey and follow you wherever you go, and put up with whatever you say and however you act... and so far, I've been willing to do it, because it meant an end to the Empire, and hopefully restoration of the Kingdom. But you know who wasn't tied down to you by bloodlines and oaths and fealty? The professor. And look at where she is now. I'm not taking one more step forward under your command."_

_"Sylvain-"_

_"No. He's right. I'm through with this, too." Felix spoke now, cutting off Annette sharply as he, too, turned the weight of his glare onto Dimitri. That righteous indignance that he had been sitting on for far too long at both his father's and Raine insistence now had been given word to by someone else, and that was more than enough permission for him to add his voice to Sylvain's complete dismissal of the boar. He felt it, too, that harsh, cold anger and blame for what his professor had suffered for this mad prince's sake, and though he knew it would earn him the ire of his father, and very likely his friends and Mercedes, he did not care. It needed to be said, and so he spoke too, his voice cold and venomous as he continued, "Take a good look around you, boar, and tell me what you see. You're sorry you've dragged us down with you, and expect that to be enough to make up for all you've been doing these past few moons? All your threats, all your derision, all your madness, as if it's easily brushed aside by something as simple as an apology? I don't care if you've come to your senses. Frankly, I'll believe you're sane when you're cold and dead, if you want the simple truth of it. I won't follow you a step further either. I'd prefer to be run through. You've caused enough collateral damage. I won't be another corpse left rotting on the battlefield because you couldn't sate your bloodlust."_

_"She didn't trust you to listen to reason, and she fell back on_ us _because of it. What does that speak to your leadership, Your Highness? Or the leadership of anyone here? She's been the only sane one here from the very start, and look at what she had to resort to in order to keep us alive." Sylvain picked up immediately from where Felix left, and he dropped his arms as he stepped up to his full height, and his eyes were blazing with quiet wrath as he turned on his king. He hadn't truly believed it at first, when his professor, who valued Dimitri above all else, had spoken of going behind his back for a chance of a truce with the Alliance, but her pleading, and her honesty, had swayed him into promising to aid her in her schemes. She, after all, had been the only one from the very beginning to look out for all of them as a whole, rather than see them as an army of warm bodies to throw at the enemy until one or the other fell. He had overheard the exchanges between the two of them. Who amongst them hadn't at one point or another? And he knew, just as well as Felix did, that it had shaken their trust in their lord to the very core._

_"Keeping secrets from everyone she should have been able to trust, simply because no one but her was willing to openly risk your wrath, even if it meant getting people killed... That's what she had to do in order to keep us alive. We never asked for that, but that's what it came down to in the end, because you were too blind. Comrades? Friends? We weren't even cattle to you." Sylvain's words were lances, cutting in deep and piercing through the words that he knew were honest enough, but simply did not cut it for him. It didn't matter if his lord meant every word he said, and he did not doubt that he did... It just simply was not enough to make up for the last several moons of war, of tension, and of ugliness that they had been forced through since his return. "You told her outright that you'd use us all, down to the dust of our bones, to get what you wanted. Felix is right. No apology is going to cut it. You want to prove yourself a real leader? You want us to follow you without question as we did with her? Act like she did, and put us first. Otherwise, my axe is better served elsewhere. I'll return home myself to fight for Fhirdiad. I won't do it here. Not any longer."_

_Ingrid looked away, unable to bear that look of seething anger burning on Sylvain's face, but some wild, mad part of her was glad to hear him speak those words. She did not have the courage to do the same, even if she agreed with him, and she knew it. Her childhood dreams had twisted her about too much, had made her too eager and willing to serve even if she knew in the darkest depths of her soul that any sacrifice she made would mean absolutely nothing to the lord she was pledged to. And while she knew her lord was honest, that he meant every word he was saying and was making no attempt to justify his behaviour, or urge for their forgiveness... She shook her head as she finally spoke, too, "I'm sorry, Your Highness... but I agree with Sylvain and Felix. I can't give you my lance, even if you offer a thousand apologies for what has happened. I can't... continue to fight alongside you when I cannot trust you to care if any of us, if even just one of us, were to fall in battle. My heart won't allow it. If I'm to fight... I will do so alongside my friends and family, back in the Kingdom. I will not do it here."_

_Dimitri was quiet as their words struck like arrows, but he took it all without complaint, as he knew he must. It hurt, hurt beyond words to hear the voices of his three closest friends striking him down and turning their backs to him, but it did not make them wrong. They were all perfectly right in their words and their choices. He had given them no reason to trust him, and even less to forgive him. He was well aware of his sins, and had fully expected this reaction... yet... It made his chest ache all the same when he forced out the words he knew he had to speak, "If that is your choice... Then you are free of me. I will not hold a single one of you to this campaign, or to my rule or command. I am as you say. Unfit to trust, or to lead... and it is only through action that I be able to prove myself either of those things. But to ask you to stay until that time comes, if it is to ever come, is not something I will do. If your hearts and minds are set... Then go, and defend the Kingdom as your will commands it. I will not stop you. I will only wish you well."_

_"You're all just going to_ leave _?!" Ashe's voice came as an explosion, startling everyone in the room, including Dimitri, and the young archer looked to his friends with raw fury burning alongside grief in his bright green eyes. He was glaring not at Dimitri however, but rather at Ingrid, Sylvain and Felix, and his voice was both sharp with accusation and with betrayal as he slammed his fist down to the table in an uncharacteristic show of indignant rage, "How_ dare _you?! I won't just simply forgive His Majesty just as any of you won't, but you'd leave this rebellion entirely behind you?! You'd leave_ the professor _behind you?! What did we even come here for in the first place if this is how it's going to end?! If you abandon the rebellion, you are abandoning the professor! Can you do that, Sylvain? Felix? Ingrid? Can you abandon her after all she's done for us? Are you all truly that selfish?"_

_Sylvain twitched, his hands tightening at his sides at the unexpected tirade, but it hit him as keenly as any arrow that Ashe could shoot all the same, which he knew had been the sniper's intent. He hadn't thought that far ahead, hadn't considered what the implications would mean if he chose to return to the Kingdom, but clearly someone else had not allowed for their anger to cloud their judgement wholly. He turned his face to the ground, both ashamed and cowed, and he wondered at how Ashe could manage to hold onto his heart, even when he, too, was sharing their anger and mistrust of their lord and liege. It was something he had to respect, and something he did respect, about his friend, even if he didn't understand how he was capable of doing it._

_A cursory look at both Ingrid and Felix proved that his words had struck them just as hard, as Felix was now glaring at Dimitri again as if he could place all the blame solely onto his head rather than admit he had spoken without thought. Ingrid had lowered her head entirely, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as she bit her lower lip in a desperate attempt to keep her eyes from watering and overflowing. They all had spoken without thinking, and Ashe had called their bluffs with sharp reproach... It was a smart move from their best sniper, and obviously one no one had expected to see, or to hear._

_There was a lingering silence, full of both shame and anger, but it was broken when Petra stood up from the chair she had been quietly sitting in ever since the partial council had begun. She stood elegantly, stepping about the table and to Ashe's side, and wordlessly she raised a hand to reach over to cover his still-trembling fist that he had slammed onto the table. Her adust eyes were kind and sympathetic as they traded a look, but it was only for a moment before she cast her quickly sharpening eyes over the rest of them. She spoke in a deceptively quiet tone, her fingers curled gently over Ashe's hand even as she stood tall and proud and apart from them all as a former Black Eagle, and the future queen of Brigid, "I am not of Faerghus... Therefore, perhaps, it is not right of me to speak. My homeland, Brigid, is not of matter to you, or to this war, just as Faerghus, and Fhirdiad, are of no matter to me. But I have come when I was summoned, as all the Blue Lions did. We came for the professor. To leave her now... It will not be done. I will not allow it. This war means more than the Kingdom and Empire. It means more than the Alliance and Brigid. Who do we fight for? Why do we fight? If answers cannot be found to those questions... Decisions should not be made today."_

Ingrid let out a long, tired breath, and she glanced down to the woman who was laying face-down at her knees in her cot, having not moved of her own will ever since she had taken that dagger in the back for Dimitri back in the fields of Grondor, and she wondered why she was bothering to regale an unconscious woman with this tale when she couldn't hear it, or respond to it. Perhaps it just made her feel better to speak of it all aloud after a long week of awkward, tense, and shameful silence, and for that, she knew she owed Petra much. The young queen of Brigid had broken through the anger to bring the discussion back to the main point everyone had forgotten, and Ingrid mused with a sad little smile, "I think Petra saved us all from making a hasty decision we all would have regretted that day... She reminded us of what this mess had really come down to. It wasn't about the Kingdom... It really wasn't even about His Highness... It was about you, Professor... If she had kept silent, had just let us fight amongst ourselves... Who knows what could have happened. We're lucky that she was there... We're lucky that _you_ brought her here, to the Blue Lions, to remind us of the world outside of our own."

There was only silence as her answer, and Ingrid felt that surge of restlessness returning as she looked down helplessly at her professor. How many times had the woman "dropped by" under the pretext of having some errand to run, and allowed for her to rant about such inane and useless things during their academy days? She could hardly remember the count, and she doubted she really wanted to. It had become their little secret, dodging their duties to catch up and simply gossip over tea and scones, usually with Dorothea, Mercedes, Annette or Petra serving as a third party for their entertainment. Those had been better days, more wishful days, and Ingrid felt that pang of loss deep in her heart as she watched her professor's still face painfully.

"Oh? Ingrid, my dear, I didn't realize you were here visiting. Usually this is when Ashe would be up and about on guard duty."

Dorothea's voice snapped her abruptly from her reverie, reminding her sharply that despite all her desire and thought to be alone to talk and vent, that she truly had always been at risk of being interrupted. The infirmary doors did not close as a rule, and healers were constantly coming and going, even if the professor's stay there warranted a little more security than was usually permitted. Yet there stood Dorothea all the same, her arms full of new supplies of bandages and salve, her wide, emerald eyes blinking in honest, but friendly surprise at seeing Ingrid there.

Flushing in shame, Ingrid leapt to her feet, but was wholly ignored as Dorothea went about restocking the shelves as she had been ordered to do when the supplies had arrived at Manuela's office. She had grown quite used to the stream of visitors that the professor was constantly receiving, and she had even begun to make a game out of seeing if they were adhering to a schedule on purpose, or had just fallen into one by sheer accident. So far she was leaning more towards the latter, but Ingrid's appearance was making her second-guess. Still, she knew it wasn't entirely her business, and so she continued her work organizing before she spoke apologetically, "I'm sorry to say however, my dear, that you can't stay for much longer... Professor needs her bandages changed, and there are no guests during healing. You're welcome to return in an hour or so, though."

"N-No, I... I think I've... been here long enough..." Ingrid stammered in reply, and she looked back to her unconscious professor with both curiosity and shame. She had come there to talk, had she not? She was sure that she had... and yet she felt nothing in being summarily dismissed. Nothing but that gentle pulse of worry for her professor's well-being, and that she knew was normal. Everything else however continued to be strange, and she bit her lower lip as she shook her head and wondered why she still felt so damned restless and ill at ease. Usually a talk with her professor always made her feel better... but the older woman was no longer capable of giving her advice. Was that the reason she felt so unfulfilled?

"Ingrid? Are you feeling all right?" Dorothea paused in her work, turning to look at the blond knight sharply as she heard that little catch in her voice. Ingrid avoided her gaze like a guilty child, and it made the singer click her tongue with both amusement and exasperation. Her friend had never really been one to talk earnestly about her feelings, but it was clear that she was troubled by something, and it obviously was not the woman she had come to visit. Raine's condition was as stable as it could possibly be now, and it was merely a waiting game for the magic to run its course through her body before she could be allowed to wake. Seeing however that the troubled look Ingrid was wearing was not at all created from concern made her soften, and she left her tasks to sit down on the nearest empty cot before she spoke more gently, "Come on now, Ingrid. Talk to me. What is it that's troubling you?"

"I'm not... troubled, per say, I just... I came here to talk to the professor, as we used to, but... I'm afraid it didn't... make me feel any better." Ingrid admitted with an awkward shake of her head, and she felt absolutely foolish the moment the words left her mouth. Of course it hadn't made her feel any better. Her professor was unconscious, and there was absolutely no talk to be had with a woman in the midst of a healing coma. She wasn't even sure why she was bothering to continue this line of conversation. It was only making her look like worse of a fool than she felt. "I've been... restless these past few days. I thought perhaps a good vent would ease things, but... It hasn't."

"It has been a stressful few weeks, hasn't it...? I can understand that much." Dorothea agreed with a small, sage nod, but she did not rise from where she had sat, and instead only continued to study Ingrid as closely as she could. The young knight looked on edge, as if she was on the verge of bolting for somewhere like a frightened rabbit, or a mouse, and Dorothea was not sure she was comfortable with the change in her attitude. Ingrid had always struck her as a confident, no-nonsense woman, and even the worst of situations had never seemed to make her _this_ uncomfortable. Whatever was troubling her was certainly more than a stressful few weeks, even if those few weeks were stretching the very definition of the word "stressful".

"Dorothea, when you feel restless... When you're frustrated, or unsure of things... What do you do to feel better?"

Dorothea blinked, surprised by the question, and doubly so for the advice that Ingrid had never once asked of her in all of their time of knowing one another. Their ways of life could not have been more different, and Ingrid had always made it clear she had little interest in the things Dorothea enjoyed. She had never taken such things personally, each woman to their own after all, but to have routine suddenly twisted about on its head... It made her take pause, and study the blond in front of her with even more care and curiosity. At the very least, she knew she owed her friend an honest answer, and so she gave her one without much preamble, "When I find myself frustrated, or restless, or unsure of things... I talk to Ferdinand. He has a... very uncanny way of making me feel... balanced again, I suppose."

"You talk to Ferdinand... I see..." Ingrid felt her hope falling flat at the answer that did nothing for her, though it did admittedly give her insight into how Dorothea had proved herself so calm and in control ever since the taking of the Great Bridge of Myrddin. Not once since Ferdinand's return had she looked as if she was in over her head, not even when the professor had been brought back to Garreg Mach in such a horrible state, and Ingrid had to wonder just how much Dorothea was relying on the former Imperial noble for balance if this was how his presence in the monastery was effecting her. The words however also made her take pause in remembrance, and for a moment she shoved aside all of her own feelings as she thought of the injuries that had kept him from joining the field in Grondor, "H-How is he, by the way? His arm? Has any progress been made?"

"I'm afraid not... His arm is ruined. He won't be lancing ever again. That spear... It crushed something in his shoulder when he took it, and no amount of healing can seem to fix it. His range of motion has mostly returned, but... He won't be fighting ever again as he once did. It simply causes him too much pain." Dorothea's answer was quiet, and she sighed with sympathy on the man's behalf when she had learned of why he was having so much trouble healing in comparison to the others who had been brought back from the bridge. Whatever had happened to his body had proved to be irreversible, and while he had took it in stride, saying it was a sacrifice well made and one he would have made again for her sake... Dorothea smiled sadly as she mused, "He isn't stewing in the loss, which I suppose is something, but... He feels guilty for not being there in Grondor, for the professor, I think. He won't say it aloud, because he knows his guilt means little in comparison to how you all feel, but I know him. He's angry he couldn't help her, after all she did for him."

"That's a foolish thought. He was hurt protecting you. Professor would never want him hurting himself further just to repay a debt." Ingrid said firmly, and she was glad to see Dorothea nodding in agreement the moment the words left her mouth. She felt for Ferdinand, and she understood exactly where his thoughts had come from and how they had led him to such a conclusion, but she could not support him on such a train of thought. Her professor would never have permitted it had she been awake to hear it. She had been the one to ban him from taking to the field in Grondor due to his injuries, and had told him outright he had fought enough already. He was home now with Dorothea, and that was far more important to her than having another able-bodied man on the battlefield... which unfortunately was not something Ferdinand even was.

"It is, and I think he knows that... but all the same, one can't change how they feel. Ferdinand is a knight, just as you are. His desires to repay debts, and to prove his worth and loyalty are just a bit too strong for his good sense." Dorothea replied with a gentle chuckle, and the warmth in her eyes made Ingrid both draw back respectfully, as well as feel a punch somewhere deep in the chest where pain had no right to be. The young singer leaned back on her hands, glancing up at the ceiling for a moment before she once again turned her eyes to Ingrid thoughtfully. While she did appreciate hearing her ask after Ferdinand, and with genuine concern... She could also tell that it was not exactly what she had wanted to ask for. And it brought a small, knowing smile to her face as she remarked gently, "But, again... When I feel out of sorts, I go speak to Ferdie, and more often than not, I feel much better afterwards. I think _you_ , however... Are in the wrong room, and speaking to the wrong person."

Ingrid said nothing as Dorothea's words hit a bit too close to home, and she bit her lower lip as she wondered how in the world she could reply to such a thing without giving herself entirely away. It was true, she was looking for someone to talk to, but the way that Dorothea was looking at her... It made her cheeks begin to redden despite herself, and she wanted to both curse and flee all at once. Her body however refused to let her do so, it would be undignified, and no doubt Dorothea would hound her for weeks if she did, and the former Black Eagle proved it as she cut straight to the point with a catlike grin, "Oh, Ingrid, don't tell me you haven't made things official with Sylvain yet."

"O-O-Official?! What is there to make official?!" Any semblance there had been of professionalism, or remaining at ease and well above Dorothea's barbs flew out the window at the mention of Sylvain, and Ingrid nearly tripped over herself when she shot back to her feet. Dorothea's snort of amusement was of no help, and Ingrid felt her ears burning a hot shade of crimson despite all of her attempts to control her inner temperature. It, of course, was all to no avail and she knew it, but she couldn't quite help it. No one was this blunt with her. No one but Dorothea, and even now she still was completely incapable of handling it. "There isn't anything between Sylvain and I! We're friends! Old friends, but friends!"

"Oh no, you haven't...! Oh, Ingrid, what _are_ you doing with yourself?" Dorothea sighed as Ingrid vehemently denied her words, and she rested her chin in her hand as she fought her smile as well as her internal disappointment. Part of her could well understand, it just was not in Ingrid's breeding to chase after her heart's desires, but the other did not care a whit for such an excuse. She had seen the way her friend looked at him, and more importantly, how he looked at her. The attraction between the two was obvious, even moreso from his side, and yet they were just dancing about one another, without the intent of locking eyes, or even daring to brush hands. "You do realize that now is the perfect time for it, yes? And that you wouldn't be the first couple to take advantage of the situation? Why, just three days ago, I saw Ashe and Petra necking not five feet down the hall!"

"They were what?!"

"You know exactly what I mean. And it was very cute, even if it wasn't any of my business seeing it. But it was also most importantly _understandable_." Dorothea ignored Ingrid's flat surprise with a flick of her wrist, and she reminded herself to apologize to Petra sometime later for spilling the beans on something she was rather sure the young queen of Brigid might not be entirely ready to make public regardless of how she felt about the Kingdom sniper. Looking up at her friend, who was still looking at her as if she had just had a bucket of ice water dumped over her head, Dorothea crossed her legs before explaining with surprising seriousness, "Think a little, Ingrid, my dear... With what happened to the professor... All of us are again being reminded of just how _short_ life is... How close death always is when taking to the battlefield becomes the norm. Out of all of us, who expected it would be the professor laying here right now, and not someone, anyone, else? It's a grim reminder of what war is, and what we are constantly at risk of losing. When one looks at life knowing those things... Why bother to wait for the "right time" or the "right place"? Especially when there may never be a right "time" or "place"? We could all be dead tomorrow. No one wishes to miss out on what small happinesses we may have, right now, simply because we were adhering to some foolish societal expectation of how courting is supposed to be done. There's no point in such things. And you of all people should know that even better than I."

Ingrid winced, though she knew she had no right to at Dorothea's assertion, as pointed as it may have been. She _did_ know that life was short, and she had learned that lesson quite cruelly in her youth with Glenn. She still did not know to this day if she had loved him, but she had cared for him and admired him, and his loss had been a swordstroke to the heart. One day, he had been alive and a knight and everything she had ever aspired to be, and the next he had been dead. Death had no mercy for the living, and no care for their schedules, or concerns. If there was something she wanted, it was her own duty to take it with her own hands before it was snatched away. She knew that. She knew that she knew that. And yet... She hesitated as her stomach shrunk painfully in on itself and made her turn away, her lips curled into a frown as she pulled instinctively at her sleeve, "Th-That's... But... It isn't... that simple..."

"Why? Because the two of you are friends?"

"No, it's because..." Ingrid faltered, and felt her stomach clench even more painfully than before as she struggled to find the words. She had tried to talk herself into this so many times that all of Dorothea's arguments were ones she likely could repeat verbatim, and yet when she wished to say it aloud... She never could quite manage to do so. There was too much pain, pain and a mixture of guilt and shame that kept her lips sealed, and she could not help it no matter what she did. Yet, Dorothea was watching her kindly now, without judgement or mirth, just a simply, sisterly sort of kindness, and Ingrid felt the words come loose despite herself, "I lost Glenn when I was so young, and I never knew, I still don't know, what it was I felt for him when he died. I cared for him, but was that love? I don't know. But I do know that when I was grieving, when I was at my worst... Sylvain never left me. He never stopped worrying over me, caring for me, or being his usual self, because he knew it would bring me out of the dark. And I... I know I love Sylvain for that, even if he's... difficult. Extraordinarily difficult. But how do I say that to him and... not make him feel as if he's simply second place to Glenn?"

"You say so. It isn't as difficult as you're making it to be in your head, Ingrid." Dorothea scolded her gently, and she smiled up at her friend despite the way she was looking at her with such helpless fear in her eyes. That alone was enough for her to understand, to understand and sympathize with, and she stood, too, before reaching out to gently take her friend's hand and squeeze it comfortingly. It was always too easy to get caught up in the thoughts and the feelings before saying the words, and she understood that well. She had felt the same, before she had simply allowed herself to be honest with Ferdinand. Everything else had flowed so smoothly afterwards. So naturally. And she knew without a doubt it would be the same for Ingrid if she was willing to take the leap of faith and try. Still... She didn't want to leave her scared, nor did she want to belittle her for being so, and she consoled her kindly as she continued, "And Sylvain may be... special... but he isn't the fool he wishes everyone to see him as. Even if you think he would concern himself with being a second... If you know he isn't, all you need to do is say so, and he would believe you. It's as easy as saying the words, Ingrid. As easy, and as difficult, I guess I should say, actually."

"As easy, and as difficult..." Ingrid echoed, and she felt her body sag underneath the weight and her exhaustion. She felt as if she had been walking along a path of nails in her bare feet, though Dorothea's words did do something to help alleviate her concerns, even if they couldn't solve it. That was a burden for her shoulders and her shoulders alone... and it made her pinch the bridge of her nose as she let out a long, tired breath... She wouldn't be permitted to dally any longer. Not when Dorothea now knew. She would be hounded for moons if she allowed things to remain as they were, and that thought frightened her far more than confronting Sylvain did. And with that smile she was wearing as she watched her expectantly... Ingrid waved a hand as she turned her feet in the direction of the hall, speaking over her shoulder as she allowed the rush of adrenaline and desire to escape dictate her actions, "Fine! You'll get what you want, and then you can stop hounding me, do we agree?!"

"Oh my lovely Ingrid, if you think this was hounding, you have no idea what I'm truly capable of of!"

Dorothea's voice was haunting in Ingrid's ears as she left the infirmary behind, but she allowed the flow of blood in her body to command her movements before better thought, or fear, could stop her in her tracks. She knew the path to his quarters easily, too many moons of tracking him down for a scolding had made it impossible for her to forget, and she took the stairs two at a time for the noble's hall. Unlike in their student days, now all the doors were shut, with several rooms having even been barred off if only because the memory of who had once inhabited those dorms had proven to be too much for the others. She couldn't admit she felt bad for it, though she knew the reminder would one day become too poisonous for even the most stalwart of them.

Still, as she marched herself down to Sylvain's quarters, and saw his shut door... A tiny part of her began to recoil. There was a very real possibility he was not alone in that room, and could she manage herself if that proved to be true? Ever since his return, she had seen his philandering ways almost come to a complete halt, but she had chosen to believe it was merely the seriousness of their circumstances that had put a halt to his worse behaviour... Was it anything else? Could she hinge all of her hopes on Dorothea asserting that their attraction was certainly mutual, and not that his stumbling and fumbling before had been nothing but his way of showing concern for her?

The second thoughts were choking, and she savagely shoved them aside for another time. If she was to be proven wrong, then that would be that... but she would at least unburden her own conscience, if only to save herself those long, restless nights. She rapped hard on the door, both aware simultaneously that she had to sound more urgent than things were, and as strong a likelihood as there could be that he was with company... He also could simply not be there at all. Ingrid bit her lip, trying to control her breathing, and wondering if perhaps she had again let her stubbornness overwhelm her good sense. She really hadn't needed to storm off in such a rush, but Dorothea had been needling so incessantly... Gods. She was about to make a complete and utter fool of herself, wasn't she?

The door swung open almost a moment later, with a dishevelled-looking Sylvain blinking his eyes owlishly as he glanced around furtively before realizing it was only Ingrid who was standing in front of his door. He took a moment to smooth down his hair, his other hand unclenching on the doorknob as he took a breath, and then glanced around a second time. It was clear he had just been woken up from a nap, as his clothes were haphazardly tossed on as if he had been rushing to get up in case of some sort of alarm, but he didn't allow for himself to look _entirely_ relieved as he finally looked back to Ingrid and asked, voice poorly concealing a yawn as he did so, "Ingrid...? Is something the matter? What's with the ramming? If something's on fire, I'm not about to be much help until you let me get my gear."

"Can I come in? I want to talk to you."

The request surprised him and brought him fully awake, as it usually wasn't her way to ask for permission before she went ahead and did whatever it was she had come to do. She never had been one to have much patience for things like personal space, as he knew Bernadetta could attest to, yet there she was, asking for permission, and of something she never had bothered to do before when it concerned him. How many times had she tracked him down to his quarters to give him an earful for one transgression or another she had been forced to clean up for him? His quarters had never been off limits to her before, strict rules about gender separation or no. She simply didn't care enough to adhere to such silly rules if she had a good reason to be tanning his hide.

The thought made him pause, but only for a moment as he opened the door wider to allow her entry without a word. Though he was well aware he had been the reason there was so much tension with the monastery as of late, he was sure that wasn't the reason Ingrid had interrupted his nap. She had been just as at fault for that as he had, and she knew it just as well as he did. But for the life of him, he couldn't think of what else he could have done to warrant one of her many scolding tirades. He had been on his best behaviour lately, or, well, at least what he could confirm as his best behaviour, and he couldn't imagine what he might have been up to to warrant a scolding, and it put him on the defensive almost immediately as he closed the door behind her and began hesitantly, "Hey, Ingrid, before you start, I want to just say I promise I've been up to absolutely nothing disgraceful lately, and-"

"Be quiet, Sylvain." Ingrid turned on him before she could lose her nerve, and she reached to grasp the front of his rumpled tunic before she pulled him close and interrupted any further arguing by pressing her mouth to his. He went stock still the moment her lips touched his own, and she swore she could feel him holding his breath as the seconds ticked by like minutes without even a hint of a response. Never mind a return to her kiss, her old friend wasn't even daring to _breathe_ as she held him tightly in place, and the feeling of rejection came like a harsh stroke of a lance to take her feet out from under her.

All better sense told her to push him away and leave, immediately, but she couldn't quite find the strength in her limbs to do so. Rather, her hands gripped down tighter on his shoulders, keenly aware of how his were hanging useless and without movement at his own sides. It stung, but she accepted it as she knew she had to, but she wouldn't allow herself the easy way out. Instead, she simply wrapped her arms as best she could around him, hiding her face in his shoulder so he wouldn't see the sting of tears in her eyes when she murmured raggedly against his neck, "I love you. I... I wanted to say that I love you, all right? A-After what happened to the professor... After what happened to Glenn, I... I know that life is just too damned short to wait for the things that are truly important to me. That could have been you or I laying in our own blood in Grondor. Or on any other battlefield we've fought on. And I don't want it to be in that moment that I get a chance to say how I feel, or lose that chance entirely. That's... That's what I was doing. You're my best friend, but you're also... just so important to me, Sylvain. I had to do something about it."

A beat of painful, awkward silence followed, making Ingrid wonder if perhaps it would have been better if she had made a quick exit rather than force out an explanation, before she heard him let out a deep, quiet breath against her ear. His arms raised slowly, carefully to wrap about her svelte form, and he squeezed her close as one hand rested gently on her hip and the other came to smoothly caress the top of her head. He was quiet for another moment or two, and this time Ingrid was aware she was the one holding her breath now before he sighed into her hair, "This... is usually the part when I wake up from my favourite dream. Sorry, but you need to give me a second to just... let this sink in that it's real. It... It _is_ real, right? You're not just... playing some really cruel joke on me right now? I wouldn't be angry if you did. I'm pretty sure I've earned a lot of cruelty with how you've been playing nursemaid after me ever since we were kids."

Ingrid wasn't quite sure what hurt worse, the disbelief in his voice, or the shaky way he spoke of deserving any sort of cruelty from her for all of his actions in the past. It only made her tighten her grip all the more fiercely, and she pushed herself as far into his arms as she could manage, relishing both the strength in his, as well as that familiar warmth that enveloped her when he answered in kind without hesitating for even a moment. She could feel a hot tear trickling down her cheek, and she hoped to the gods he wouldn't feel it as she answered in a ragged mutter, "Why would I ever joke about something like this...? I mean it, Sylvain... You're... You're the most important person in my life, and I couldn't handle keeping that to myself anymore. I was so restless and anxious, and... the only thing that ever makes me feel better, that ever reminds me that it's all right to smile, even in these days... is you. How could I not love you?"

"Do you want me to ruin the moment and give you a list of reasons why you really shouldn't? Because I can give you a list of reasons why you really shouldn't." Sylvain's returning jape fell flat, but the arms that were squeezing tightly about her waist refused to slacken, let alone even imagine releasing her. He nuzzled her neck gently, his breath warm and uneven on her skin, and unbidden she felt herself tremble at the foreign, but not particularly uncomfortable sensation. She could feel the ghost of his lips, pulling up into that annoyingly charming smile she hated and loved, but he did not move forward, didn't dare to press as he simply held her close and continued quietly, "Look, you just surprised me there, but... Don't doubt... that I don't feel the same about you, okay...? Because I do. I honestly and truly do."

Despite all her best efforts, Ingrid felt herself sniffle as that tightly coiled ball of hurt and rejection and fear melted away into pleasant and relieved warmth, and she cursed herself as Sylvain momentarily stiffened against her in surprise. He didn't let her go, however, but rather gave her another warm squeeze before he was slowly, carefully, leading her to sit down with him on the edge of his bed. He urged her quietly when she initially hesitated, and that warm grip on her arm didn't help her self-restraint an ounce. After a moment or two, Ingrid found herself curled up neatly against his side, face pressed into his shoulder as he kept one arm wrapped around her waist, while the other of his hands was covering hers as it gripped at the hem of his tunic to keep him firmly in place.

Sylvain reached slowly, hesitantly for her face, and his thumb was careful as it brushed away one of the tears she hadn't managed to wipe away on her sleeve. She held still for him, savouring the feeling of his warm, callused palm cradling her cheek. He was gentle even if he was somewhat hesitant with her, and she appreciated his kindness as she was well aware he was far more experienced than she was when it came to things like physical intimacy. His thumb brushed again across her cheek, and his brow furrowed as he muttered, more to himself than to her, "I hate it when I make you cry..."

"You don't make me cry..." Ingrid shook her head, nudging him gently as she looked up to see him watching her with one sardonically raised eyebrow. The disbelief was written clear across his face, and she let out a tired, irritated breath as she realized this wasn't about to be as "natural" as Dorothea had promised it would be. She tightened her hold on his tunic, eyes narrowing in response before she reiterated firmly, "No, I mean it, Sylvain. You don't make me cry. You've worried me, disappointed me, made me outrageously furious more times than I can count... but not once have you ever made me cry. Not even when we were children, and you were at your worst. You've never once made me cry. And fretting over you doesn't count. That's a habit at this point, and not one I'm inclined to be breaking anytime soon, either."

"You mean that?" Sylvain found himself asking before he could think better of it, and this time she was the one to give him a withering look, and he immediately pulled a face as he understood his error. She was always blunt, and always honest. She would never lie to spare his feelings. Especially not now. He raised his free hand in a sign of supplication, bowing his head as he quickly began to backtrack, "You mean that. Of course you mean that... I'm sorry. It's just... This is... It's... a lot. Not that I'm upset, or that I'm unhappy or anything... I just... figured you didn't... Or you _wouldn't_ , anyway... see me in this kind of way. We've been friends for most of our lives. You know me better than I do. So I guess, I'm just... at a loss about why. Why me? Why me and not someone... leagues better?"

"Isn't it obvious? You just said so yourself why." Ingrid's tone softened at his questioning, at the show of hesitance and self-doubt, and it made her smile sadly at how little he truly thought of himself. She had known he had always felt this way, that he had never really had the confidence that he projected simply because he had a Crest, but that didn't matter to her. He was true to himself and his beliefs, even if some of those beliefs had been abhorrent, but he also had proven he was willing to change his thoughts when he was granted new perspective. She knew him well... but the reverse was also true, and she ran a comforting hand across his cheek as she explained gently, "We've been friends ever since we were children. No one knows you better than I do... and no one knows me better than you. You've seen me at my worst... and you were there for me then. You stood by me, even when I tried everything to push you away... and when I finally started to come out of the dark... I know you acted up only to keep my focus off of my grief, and onto something else. Everything you did when we were younger... You did it for me. You just never said so."

"Like I said a long time ago... It hurt seeing you hurt, and not being able to do anything about it. Raising a ruckus, and making you chase me around... It seemed like it was the only way to keep you from... just slipping back down sometimes." Sylvain didn't argue her points, though he wondered errantly just exactly when she had begun to see through him and allowed for his behaviour to continue. She could have easily nipped it in the bud from the start, he would have never allowed himself to be such a nuisance that he became an honest burden to her, but she never had tried earnestly to stop him. Not until his mischief had grown far out of control, and had turned worrisome and malicious, rather than something as simple as a distraction. That was his own fault and he knew it, and owned it, but it didn't stop him from idly reaching for her hand, curling his fingers errantly about hers as he continued quietly, "Seeing you now, compared to back then... Thinking about it all... I've loved you for a long time. It's downright pathetic that it took you nearly slugging my head off to make me realize it."

"Nearly slugging your...? Oh." Ingrid reddened as the memory came back with little prompting, and she wasn't entirely sure if she felt ashamed, concerned, or maybe even slightly amused to hear that her punching him into a hay bale had been the trigger for his realization. It had not been one of her finest moments, and she still cringed slightly whenever she thought of it, but she had been at such a loss of what to do. He was hurting over Miklan, she had known that he was, but he refused to let anyone see it, let alone even try to give him comfort. Her anger had boiled over at his repeated jokes and dodges, and eventually she had struck him in both frustration and hurt... but he had come chasing after her later that day with an honest apology in his eye, and a soft, quiet admittance of being in pain, too. She rubbed at her nose, embarrassed as she admitted weakly, "I... could have handled that much better... You didn't deserve to be lashed out at like that..."

"No, I did. And you know the worst thing? It... It was the professor who made me see that, too." Sylvain felt a small, wry smile curl at his lips, and he raised Ingrid's hand to his mouth, carefully pressing a kiss to her knuckles as she turned to look at him with surprise. It had been obvious to everyone in the early moons of their schooling that he and their professor had not gotten along whatsoever, and it had even become a point of contention between him and his lord, at the worst of it... Yet, to everyone else, suddenly things between them had changed on a dime. Sylvain had reigned in his lack of respect, and Raine had seemed to be gaining more confidence in both herself and her duties. He doubted anyone knew that the two were correlated, and he had said nothing when asked, if only to keep her secrets in confidence... but he would keep nothing from Ingrid. "No, it's true... After you slugged me, she came over to check on me. I was still so much of a bastard to her, then, too... but she didn't mind it. She let me rant and snarl and hurl all that venom at her until I was spent... and she reminded me that if someone like her was seeing how much pain I was in, I was an idiot for thinking that my friends couldn't see it, either. That was back before she really felt like she was a good teacher, so she was pretty hard on herself while she was trying to make me see sense... It made me realize I wasn't just acting the bastard anymore... I really was one, if this was the way people reacted to me. And nobody deserved to be torn down because of me, especially when all they wanted to do was help."

Ingrid smiled gently as Sylvain kissed tenderly at her hand, nuzzling her fingers and holding them gently in between his own. He didn't seem to be aware he was doing it, but every breath on her skin made her shiver, and she reached to return his favour by running her free hand's fingers through his tousled crimson mane when she replied softly, "She's always been very good at that... Making people see things from other perspectives. She chalked it up to the fact that it was her mercenary upbringing, and that she was so far and away from nobility... She just didn't realize yet that she was more empathetic than she thought. She always cared about us, even if we were foisted on her unwillingly. She just didn't know how to show it properly, that's all... Just like you, I guess. Small wonder you didn't get along well until you grew up a little."

"Until I grew up a little? Come on, that's harsh. I've grown up plenty these last five years!" Sylvain mimicked the look of a hurt puppy despite the glint of humour sparking in his eyes, and the hands that had been gently clasping about her waist suddenly became tickling. His fingers danced along her ribs in playful menace, refusing to let her get a word in edgewise before she fell to laughter in the midst of an attempt of scolding. He laughed with her, feeling the weight of the war, of the past several moons melting away. This was how easy it had been, before they had been handed weapons, when they were young and able to be children, and Sylvain revelled in it as his fingers skittered across her waist and hips, tickling everywhere he could reach as she laughed and squirmed in a desperate, and futile, attempt to get away from him.

It was a mad rush of hands and laughter and pushing and shoving for several moments before either of them realized what position they had gotten themselves into. Sylvain was the first to pause and hesitate as he looked at Ingrid laying sprawled across his cot, her face flushed, eyes glittering with affectionate amusement, and her chest heaving for breath as he leaned over her to keep her trapped for more torture. The fey mood of childhood amusement however was gone, and he was well aware of just what sort of reaction he was having to her now, and almost on instinct he began to raise himself up from the bed, face reddening in tandem with hers when he mumbled awkwardly, "S-Sorry, I didn't mean to go-"

"It's all right." Gentle hands caught his face before he could escape too far, and they wound tenderly about his shoulders to pull him back down and almost completely atop of her. He heard her shaky little breath as his chest flattened against her own, and he twitched as her fingers ran with lazy, errant purpose through his still rumpled crimson hair. She nuzzled his shoulder again, tightening her grip only slightly before she turned her head, her lips brushing against his earlobe when she murmured in a warm, silken voice, "Don't stop."

Sylvain wished he could have said his better sense overrode his instinct, but there was little he could do against the feel of her warm body pressing so intimately against his own. His head turned, lips seeking her own, and she murmured with pleasure the moment they touched. Her hold on him tightened even further as her lips parted for his questing tongue, and he groaned quietly somewhere deep his throat at the foreign but so familiar smell and taste of her. Fresh hay, and marzipan, her favourite sweet for both herself and her horses, and each time she shifted underneath him, he pressed closer and closer, pinning her all the more firmly between the thin mattress of his cot and his own body. She was soft, ridiculously soft, and his hands began to wander across those forbidden curves of hers that he'd been aching to touch and keeping himself far and away from despite every ample opportunity he had been granted both on and off of the field of battle.

"Mmm..." Her soft little purr of satisfaction was more than enough of an acceptance for him to continue, and she deepened his kiss eagerly, her own hands joining in his search as they wandered lazily across the broad expanse of his back and farther below. Her legs stirred, that restlessness returning with that familiar plume of heat deep within, and she was both surprised and secretly pleased when with one expert movement he slid himself between them to push her further down so she could better appreciate his sudden weight. A moan she couldn't quite stifle escaped as her hips arched thoughtlessly upwards, seeking more of him in impatient want, and she was surprised, and a little disappointed when he abruptly pulled away when her hands began to tug instinctively at his tunic.

"Wait a second... I just..." Sylvain sat up abruptly, pushing himself with his hands to get off of her but not entirely pulling himself away or out of her reach. His brow was furrowed, his eyes darkened with trouble and hesitation, and he glanced about the room like he was searching for words before he could look back at her laying down in his bed, clothes and hair rumpled, eyes hungry, and her lips swollen from their hungry trading of deep and deeper kisses. She looked beautiful, and it made every inch of him ache with want of her, but he swallowed down the lump in his throat and cleared it before he spoke again, trying his best to be firm and ignore the sight in front of him that had haunted him dreams for longer than he wanted to admit, "Can you just... answer me one thing? If... If we hadn't gone to war. If we'd graduated, set off, and just lived out our lives like we were supposed to... Would this have happened? Would you still... have chosen me? If the war, if the death, wasn't always hanging over our shoulders... Would things have still worked out this way?"

Ingrid watched him closely, at first unsure why he was again hesitating and pulling back before his words sank in like stones in water. It wasn't his worry that she was rejecting him, nor was it the concern of being second to Glenn... He knew better, just as Dorothea had said he would. Rather, his concern was for her, not for himself, and she could read it his eyes, even if they were doing everything he possibly could to avoid looking at her. It made her smile with fond exasperation, and she reached for his cheek, turning his head back in her direction before she answered him quietly, firmly, "It would have. Maybe it might have taken a little longer, but I know that it would have, Sylvain. I would have always chosen you. You aren't taking advantage of me. It's true I'm afraid, afraid of losing you, of being lost, but... It's also true that I love you. But if you feel like it's too soon, or too quick, that's all right. I can wait until you're more sure of things. I did... come on a little strong."

"Just a little. And that's usually my territory." Sylvain agreed with a wry smile, but he appreciated her kindness, and her patience. She really was a saint... but he knew for himself that he wasn't. Even now, his fingers were itching with the urge to touch her, to pull apart her clothes and get to her skin, to make her moan again, louder and this time with his name on her lips... He shook his head, reaching for her chin as he leaned back down, caressing the curve of her lip when he muttered half-seriously, "But waiting... I don't think I've got the self-restraint for that. You don't come into a man's room uninvited, then start kissing him and expect nothing to happen after. Especially a man like me. If you let me continue... You won't be leaving until tomorrow morning. Are you all right with that?"

His left hand had slid down her side, stroking with the strength of a whisper as he lifted her leg and again slipped so easily in between to lay across her again. She inhaled sharply at the sensation of his weight on her body, of his strong hands caressing and stroking her through her clothes, and she wondered why he'd dare to ask. He had more practise with this than she did, and even if he wasn't doing it consciously, every movement he made was instinctual and seductive, and it drew her in with or without her consent. She was aching, on fire, and she didn't care about the consequences any longer. What was the point of it all, when tomorrow, or the next day, neither of them could be there to experience this again?

Her leg lifted of its own volition, sliding across his waist to pull him down, and his hiss of astonished pleasure as his erect centre came into direct contact with her core only made her burn all the hotter. She raised her hips, grinding against him instinctively, and this time he gasped her name as his right hand tightened thoughtlessly on her thigh. His eyes were shut, teeth grit and face almost as red as his hair... and Ingrid felt a surge of confidence that was both wholly unfamiliar, and completely right. This was what she could do to him as a woman, this was her feminine wiles that Dorothea had always gone on about, and she reminded herself to thank her friend later as she arched even further, craving that delicious friction as her mouth grazed his chin before she whispered raggedly, "I don't want to leave at all, Sylvain... Make me yours, and I'll make you mine in return."

Fire burst behind his eyes, and he smirked at her despite his tightened jaw. He leaned down, nuzzling across her neck as his hands moved with rapid speed and precision to unbutton her blouse before she could think twice about it. His lips and teeth dragged across her skin, eliciting breathless, startled moans, and through it all her hips twitched and jerked against his own, making him burn and ache and want with thoughtless abandon. She had asked for it. She wanted him, and by the Goddess herself, he wanted her, just as badly. He sank his teeth into her neck, delighting in her loud, shameless groan as her fingernails scraped at his scalp, and he pulled her blouse open as one hand slid inside to cup and caress her pert breasts. Her hardened nipple grazed his palm, eliciting another breathless groan from her lips, and he smirked, incapable of helping himself... She was new to this, to carnal wants and the wild pleasures a body was capable of feeling when another touched them... but he had all night to teach her. His tongue laved over the spot where he had bitten her, a reminder of what was to come and a reminder of what they'd done, and he glanced up to her once more, chest heaving even as he began shrugging out of his tunic, "Don't regret this in the morning, Ingrid... You'll break my heart."

"I won't, Sylvain. I promise." Ingrid closed her eyes, allowing her body to sink into the pleasure of his rough, callused hands, his lips, his teeth, and the feeling of his hot skin caressing her own as layers of clothing were shed like snakeskin and thrown carelessly aside to the floor. She could admit, five years ago, she never would have ever dared to entertain the thought of being with her old friend like this... but now? Now every touch, new as it was, was warm and familiar, and more than anything, it felt absolutely right. This was Sylvain, her best friend and her oldest partner, and there was no one she trusted more, or cared more deeply for. This was right. This was how things were meant to be. Her mouth found his again, and she groaned as his tongue slid against hers, caressing and tasting and milking out sounds she didn't know she had been capable of making. Yet he was still gentle, and she smiled as her fingers combed again this his hair... Regret this? Never. If anything... "If I get to wake up to you in the morning... I'll be the happiest woman alive. Love me, Sylvain. Love me and make me forget everything but you."

"I can do that for you, Ingrid..."

"Nnm...!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> I promised there'd be smuttish stuff for the other Blue Lions, and I held up my promise. Mind, this won't be the only, or the last of little "incidents" between the couples I have going on, but it is just the first instance of it. Provoked, of course, by that "fear of war/fear of death" that is constantly hanging over the heads of the soldiers fighting, but it doesn't make the relationship any less real, or the desire any less honest. Of course, Sylvain being Sylvain, and Ingrid being Ingrid... I wanted to have that gentle hesitancy, the concern, and the friendship be just as important as the romance, and the more "fun" bits. My only apology is that it didn't go all the way, but I was hitting ten pages, and my wrists were starting to hurt. X'D
> 
> As for the top half of this chapter... I meant it when I said that I wanted things in AM to be harder, and more realistic, for Dimitri. With it being Raine, and not Rodrigue who "bit the bullet" for him, the reaction is bound to be more violent and angry than it would be if it had just been Felix's father. And even then, Felix had very little to say to Dimitri as it was, which was disheartening, considering he never really hated Rodrigue, but was still in the midst of grieving for his brother, and using his grief as a whip to keep people at bay. With Raine however, acting as a moral compass and one of the only "sane men" about, the reaction should have been explosive.
> 
> Now, as for where the story goes from here... Dimitri has a redemption arc to earn, but how I'm going about that will admittedly be a bit... Well, who knows. It's difficult to go from here, considering I have to play the chapter (sometimes multiple times) as I write my fics. That means I've held off on certain paralogues, and haven't done as much grinding as I'd have liked to do in order to get certain things done within a good timeframe. So, the next few chapters may be a little off-kilter, but they are what they are!
> 
> As always, thank you for taking the time to read, and I hope you enjoyed what you got. I'll see you again later, with a new chapter and more fun stuff to follow. Have a good one, till we see each other again!
> 
> PS: As of writing (or on the day of release, let's be honest), I have finished Cindered Shadows... and, I've made an executive decision that none of it will be included in my canon for plenty of reasons. It's unfortunate, since the lore in the side story was great to find, and the battles were fun (if a bit overly gimmicky), but the characters didn't shine very well in their own story, and it's not really possible for me to insert them into my canon at this point. And, to be honest... I don't want to. I have my own backstory concerning Raine and Warin's mother, and while I am aware that the side-story is "canon"... It simply isn't "my" canon. But that is what fanfiction is for. I only apologize for any fans of the Ashen Wolves, as none of the side-story, and none of the characters there will be making an appearance in my work anytime soon. This note is just to make everyone completely aware that from this point on, the DLC will have no impact whatsoever on Azure Moon: Cerulean Tears, and the story will continue on as if it does not exist.
> 
> Mood: Anxious.
> 
> Listening To: "World So Cold" - 12 Stones
> 
> ~ Sky


	13. Binding Chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Romance, Introspection. (T)
> 
> Characters: Dimitri, Raine.
> 
> Summary: It had been a long several weeks, stepping into her shoes and pulling the burdens she had once borne onto his shoulders. He knew himself a strong man, it wasn't arrogance to say so, but even he felt his knees creak ominously when he tried to foist the weight entirely upon himself. How had she managed to do it without collapse from the beginning? How had she gone on so long, with so little support? He wasn't sure, but he did know he would carry the weight, and get rid of it, so that when she awoke... She would no longer ever have to concern herself with shouldering anything alone. Even if she did not want him... He would be there, silent and in the shadows, repaying his debt a piece at a time because it was the only thing he knew he could do.

**Harpstring Moon**

**Garreg Mach Infirmaries**

**Night**

It was one thing, in the midst of forests and villages and wilderness, to hide his presence and everything about himself to sneak about, undetected and prepared like a predator about to ambush his unsuspecting prey... but it was another entirely for the future king of Faerghus to try to mask his presence in the halls of Garreg Mach. His sheer size made him stick out like a sore thumb no matter what it was he did, and so he had condemned himself to waiting, waiting until the setting of the sun and the closure of the infirmary before he had allowed himself to slip up onto the higher floors, using the shadow and sleep of the world about him to cover his footfall before he found his way to the one room he had not seen, let alone visited, since its sole occupant had been sequestered there since the Battle at Grondor.

It had been three weeks now that she had been underneath the healing coma that Manuela, Dorothea and Mercedes had devised, but they had come with promises in recent days that soon she would be permitted to wake, and then be discharged back to her own quarters. Her body was healing nicely underneath the combination of their magic, and their confidence in her condition had done much to lift the spirits of all in the monastery. Life was simply not the same without their professor, and each of the Blue Lions was feeling it sorely. The rebellion, too, had begun to flag, but with gritted teeth and a steel spine, Dimitri had taken up his professor's fallen mantle and begun to do everything he had neglected.

It had not been easy, but he had not suspected it would be. The men had been hesitant to follow him, and rightfully so, but he had gritted his teeth and buckled down all the same. He supposed he had been lucky with the surprise visit of Caspar and Bernadetta travelling through Garreg Mach territory, as they had presented a strange set of opportunities that he had been permitted to leap upon to show his better judgement, as well as his desire to change. The two had heard of the defeat of the Empire in Grondor, and though they both had made it clear they had no intent on staying to join with the rebellion, when they had also been informed of the professor's condition, they had volunteered to stay to provide extra hands, at least for a small duration before their travels would continue.

The doors to the infirmary were closed, and with as little sound as possible, Dimitri opened the door to slide inside of the still room. He had seen all three of the best healers leaving for their rooms for the night, and had waited until most of the monastery would be sleeping before he had risked travelling up here. Even their small councils were no longer being held in the war room, but rather had been relegated to the Knight's Hall, as Dimitri had seen it best to avoid temptation by coming too close to the infirmary. His self-restraint had lasted him three weeks, three weeks of long nights, longer days, politics and battle and work, and he was beginning to grow weary... He wondered if that was what had finally made him crack, and break the oath he'd sworn to wait until she was well and conscious again before showing his face anywhere near her.

Now, with the flicker of a candle in hand, Dimitri almost held his breath as he sidled as quietly as he could about the curtain that had been drawn around the only occupied cot in the room. The sight of her was an axe to the stomach after so long, and he ground his teeth down to stop himself from making any noise as he forced himself to take a good, long look at the unconscious woman in the cot before him. She was asleep on her stomach, her head carefully supported by two pillows, and her clothes neatly folded up and settled on a nearby desk. They had been thoroughly washed, the bloodstains from her wounds in Grondor completely disappeared now, and the only remnants of her wounds were the bandages that peeked out from under the blanket that had been draped so gently over her body. He had to turn his stare away as he realized with a bit of a lurch in his stomach that she was wearing nothing below the neck but the bandages that had been tied around her chest, and while he realized this was likely more pragmatism than anything, the heat in his face reminded him that he still was standing less than a foot next to a half-naked woman, and he owed her more respect than to stare like a stricken schoolboy just because he could see the peek of her pale, smooth skin.

He returned his gaze to the desk where her things had been placed, and he noted with some amusement that her weapons had also been lined up and carefully set aside with her clothes. The dagger she always wore at her waist was still in its sheath and belt, and the Sword of the Creator lay in its sheath alongside it, as well as a pair of gauntlets much like the style of her brother's, but clearly lacking the blades. He wondered idly who had been the one with the courage to take the sword from her belt, and he could only imagine her brother having the lack of care to handle a Relic that was beyond him, and everyone else, in a horrifying fashion when it came to power. There had been a debate of where the sword should go with its master incapacitated and Dimitri had been both amused and annoyed to know that it had ended with Warin declaring it had to stay with her, and any attempt to remove it "for its own safety" was clearly a sign of mistrust of the men and women in the monastery.

It had been a sound argument, though clearly one Seteth had not expected Warin of all people to make, and he had yielded after a moment or two. It helped that the infirmary was only left unmanned during the late night hours, and there were more than enough patrolling guards to put anyone's mind at ease about someone skulking about their professor in the middle of the night. Warin's point had been a sharp one, as well as a cold reminder, that Seteth had been willing to put more security in place for the Sword of the Creator and not the woman who wielded it, if he was willing to leave her unguarded in the infirmary while she healed. Seteth had relented at that, with the only exception of adding another patrol to the night watch, which had initially been an annoyance to Dimitri's plans, until the word of her recovery had put everyone in such a good mood that security had lessened in the past several days.

Quietly, Dimitri let himself sink down into the nearby chair as he again looked over her sparse collection of belongings. Her clothes, her weapons, and nothing else... Not even a single piece of jewellery, or a bit or bauble any woman would usually have. It was a cold reminder of how closed off she still was, how little she seemed to want or even need, though he knew now her choice of withdrawing from him had been a wise one. He could still remember that glimpse he had had of her quarters after returning her there after the mess that had occurred in the Sealed Forest, and it had surprised and saddened him to see her place of living to be so sparse. She had so little in the way of personal belongings, preferring to stack books from the library beside her well-worn desk, as well as a small collection of whetstones for her weaponry maintenance... yet, her only weapons were her blades, as she proved herself a staunch swordswoman, though she did have some proficiency in hand-to-hand, as her brother and father had likely taught her when she was young.

She slept on beside him, oblivious to him and the world entire, and he watched her in thoughtful, pained silence... It was true that she looked healthier, having been underneath the care of three of Fódlan's best healers, but to see her so unnaturally still did his heart no favours. To call her sleeping seemed wrong when she did not twitch or move like one would usually in their sleep. Instead she simply lay still as a statue, her breathing calm and regular, but otherwise showing no signs of life. Her pallor had returned to its usual colour, and the shadows that had been creeping underneath her eyes were gone. The weight she had lost had not yet returned, leaving her thinner than he remembered, but Mercedes had reassured those worried that it would not take long for her to put it back on once she woke and returned to her usual lifestyle.

Yet... Her usual lifestyle had become the problem, though no one had really had the courage to say so even if the thought was in everyone's eyes. She was overburdened, and though there was aid to be had, she simply could not, or would not take it. Dimitri had to wonder if it had been that thought that had softened the cold first-impression he had been met with when he had made it clear he would be taking over for her in the interim. He had taken on all the burdens that had previously her own, and though he'd stumbled, had faltered... He had still stood and took it all without a word of complaint.

Training had been seen to, as had the finer details of the plan to lay siege to Fhirdiad, and every day he joined the new recruits, as well as his old comrades, out on the field in practise bouts and meals as he saw to working himself back into the core of the rebellion's lifestyle. There was wariness, and there was a fair bit of hostility, but Dimitri knew to take it all in stride. He had no other choice, if he was to truly win back any of their favour, and he took any battle that was offered, and left when it was made clearly known that he was not wanted. It was a dangerous game to play, a difficult line to walk... but he would walk it all the same.

A whisper of a breeze blew by his cheek, brushing his bangs across the right side of his face and reminding him of one of the other many changes that had taken place in the past several weeks. It had been Mercedes' idea, the changing of his hair, and after hearing her argument that a good, new look would make him both feel refreshed as well as give him something new to present to the others... Dimitri had seen little reason not to give her suggestion a try. Now the front half of his hair was pulled back into a small, messy ponytail, somewhat resembling how Felix preferred his hair, with the rest now confined underneath the thick, black strap of his eyepatch band. It left the right side of his bangs free to tickle at his cheek on occasion, but with Mercedes' seal of approval, Dimitri had hesitantly chosen to work with what he had been given. At the very least, a change to his appearance, which he already knew to be intimidating, couldn't hurt him further.

"It's been... strange... All of this. Even the smallest things, the most... inconsequential of things... They do make an impact, even if that impact is small, in and of itself..." Dimitri found himself speaking without thinking, and he leaned forward on his knees, raising his hands to rest his chin on his knuckles as he looked down quietly at the sleeping woman before him. His chest felt lighter, somehow less constricting as he allowed his words to flow, and he wondered if it was because he hadn't allowed himself to speak of it yet, or simply because it was her when he muttered, "Who would have known something as simple as a change of hair could make someone look at me differently... Would you laugh, I wonder, if you could see me now? Beforehand, nothing mattered. Nothing but revenge... Now, to think I'd be caring for my appearance, in concern of how it would make others view me... To you, I imagine that must be ludicrous... Or perhaps, it's... more close to how things once were... Long, long ago."

It had been five long, long years of running, hunting, pain and anger and suffering... Five long years of swearing vengeance, becoming a beast, and living as a monster... And it made that year beforehand, that single, warm, quiet year of tutelage underneath her patient, kind hand seem all the more distant, and yet somehow also so very, very bright. So bright that it hurt him sometimes to look directly at it and recall all he had shoved aside in the name of revenge, and all he had lost and suffered. Perhaps that was why he had buried it so deeply, had closed his eyes to the light and delved into the dark, but he still could not entirely be sure.

"A few of our comrades say that I've returned to how I once was... It is... difficult to accept those words, knowing how untrue they are. What I was... is what I am. Nothing has truly changed, except for how I now see things. I'm not certain that is enough to say that I, myself, have changed." Dimitri confessed these words quietly, speaking more into his knuckles than to the open room, and he closed his eye, wondering why he couldn't bear to look upon that still, silent form when he knew it would hold no judgement for what he said. It was not as if she could hear, but he spoke to her nonetheless. He had to. A font somewhere inside of him had been sprung open, forcing thoughts and words he had thought he would take to the grave with him spewing forth, and only here, only in her presence, could he find safety to let them loose. "I do not know how to address them... or if I should. Would it only makes things more difficult? Or would my honesty assuage their worries? Dedue argues the former, which I admit, seems accurate... And things have already been so difficult. But... That is penance. If cleansing oneself of sins was easy... This world would be full of saints."

He looked to her again, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest in time with her breathing, and again felt that pulse of guilt and pain deep in his chest. That difficulty... That burden... It only fell to him now because he had ignored it. How long had she carried that weight? How long had she soldiered on through the difficulties, without making a word of complaint to anyone? She did not deserve such a life. Such burdens... Yet they were burdens she took on all the same, and he let out a long, wounded breath, "I owe you... more than I can put into words... and the apologies I wish to say to you... They are beyond count. All of this... is my doing. From the very beginning, I've been a weight upon your shoulders. Unasked for, unlooked for, yet something you took up all of the same. Since the first day we met, outside of Remire... You've never had a single choice in anything, since that day, have you? Everything was decided for you, without your consent, without your input, and along you went, because you believed it best to do as you were told. You never asked for my burdens to be yours. Yet you took them anyway."

Again his eyes closed, and he remembered that day outside of the Sealed Forest, when he had teetered, when he had fumbled, and when he had turned his back on her. Carrying her in his arms, knowing she depended on him and needed him, and yet... Still, he had chosen another path. A path without her. His teeth ground down impulsively, and his hands tightened until his knuckles turned white. The flow of rage and self-loathing burnt hot, but beneath it was cold shame, shame and disappointment and wistfulness, and it turned his voice mournful as he continued regretfully, "Despite all that you did for me until then... Despite how much you put into knowing me, helping me, guiding me... I abandoned you that day. I chose my path of revenge, rather than a path of potential healing. The thought of you burnt me. Terrified me. It made so many things I had clung to until that moment seem small, and insignificant. What did the dead matter, compared to you? What did _anything_ matter, compared to you? I had felt it before, that day when Captain Jeralt lost his life, and I thought it may have been you... and the world stopped for me, just for a moment. If you were dead... The world could fall away without consequence... and the thought of that, the thought you, upending everything I had lived for until that moment... I wouldn't allow it."

More pain. His hands were aching, and he looked to them without truly seeing them to notice he had clenched down until his nails had pressed bruises into his skin. He didn't doubt they would last days, but he didn't mind. They were trivial compared to the ache in his chest, and the aching in his temples. It was all memory, memory and heartache he had worked so hard to erase, but it had never truly gone away. Instead it had simmered beneath the surface all of these years, in horrific nightmares and wild, insane fantasy, and he let out another breath as he forced himself to lean back, to loosen his posture and relax himself as he muttered raggedly, "And then... you were gone. Lost to the siege... and I was imprisoned shortly after. I dreamt of you rescuing me. Returning from the grave to break me free, and when you never appeared... Tch... I was foolish. To spurn you, and then wish for you to save me... I was selfish, too. You were dead and gone, then... and even when I found freedom, you were the one shackle I couldn't cut away. Was it regret? Was it longing? Anger...? I wish I knew. Even now... I cannot tell you what it was I felt all these years for you. It all became so jumbled together, so mixed and muddled until I didn't know whether I hated you, or loved you."

A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, and he knew full well the truth despite his questions. It simply felt too freeing to stop himself from speaking, even though the honest truth was still something he was afraid to speak. It was shame now that held his tongue, shame and a deep, cold sense of horror, but it was something he knew he had to face. She had never haunted him as the others had. He had supposed it would only be a matter of time before her ghost joined the others, joined Glenn, his father and his stepmother, but that time had never came. Instead, she had haunted him when he slept... In dreams and nightmares and fantasies that were both a balm, and the sharpest of wounds or deadliest of poisons. He had been but a boy when he had met her, but it had not made her any less beautiful to him... and as a man... As a man, she made him more of a beast than any of his deeds ever could.

He shuddered reflexively, and swallowed the knot that had formed in his throat with great effort. He reached over silently, plucking the blanket from her and carefully, slowly, pulling it farther up until not a shred of her skin could be seen. It both shamed and embarrassed him, knowing that even the barest sight of her torso was enough to stir him, even when she was like this, but there was no denying his body's reaction. Still, even after all this time, he wanted her. Even in the worst throes of his madness, that hadn't changed. The nightmares had persisted, had chiselled away at his conscience and whispered in his ear that he was indeed a monster for thinking of her as he did, for creating these images in his mind that made him wake throbbing, panting, and aching with want and self-hatred long after the fog of sleep and dreams had released him.

"Everything I do now... It is spurred by you. The greater good is the end goal, and it's what should drive me more than anything, but... I know that in the end... All I wish for more than anything is to see you smile again as you used to. Even if it isn't me that brings that look back to your face, that in the end, is my dearest wish." Dimitri ran a hand tiredly through his hair, and his hands settled on his knees as he watched her, closely, carefully, and forced himself not to reach for her. Her hand had felt so cold on his skin that day in Grondor, warm and slick with her own blood, but her flesh had been that of ice... and more than anything, he wanted to touch her hand again, feel her warmth, and remind himself that she was, indeed, alive.

The action of course was beyond question. He was crossing more than enough boundaries by simply being there, and he would not cross more. He was selfish enough to give himself this, but he would take no more from her, even if it would be a balm, and a boost he sorely needed. She had given enough without him there to provide for her, and to take when she was in no position to give consent... That was heresy. Yet, it didn't stop him from speaking to her, giving himself an outlet he had not had until that moment, and he knew his selfishness ran deeper than he wanted to admit. He was being hypocritical, yet... What other options did he really have?

"So much has been done these past three weeks... I wonder if you would have approved of my actions... I... I tried to act as you would. Tried to think as you would... but I am... unsure if I would have met your standards..." Dimitri admitted quietly, and a wry, awkward smile curled at his lips as he wondered why, even now, he was seeking her approval like he was still her bumbling and unsure student. She had awed him as a boy, with her skill and talent and experience despite how few years she had on him, and even now... She still continued to make him shrink back from her in surprise and wonder. Was it simply because of how he felt for her, or was she truly that good? Perhaps it was a mixture. He could not tell. But he continued all the same, feeling his tension releasing, feeling himself lighten as he told her of the happenings she had missed in her sleep, "In the end, I think... It was Petra that provided me with that one stepping stone I needed the most to show my intent, and to prove I was at least worth putting faith in again for one more try. And to have that chance given to me by Petra of all people, who has no stake in this war, in the Kingdom's affairs... You were right to bring her into the fold of the Blue Lions. To show us of a world beyond Faerghus. She has made us all wiser... and she has been much kinder to me than I have deserved."

Petra had spoken to him bluntly of the precarious position Brigid had been in since the beginning to the Empire's start of conquest, but until now, they had been able to balance themselves into a strange place of neutrality. The defeat at Grondor had the Empire scrambling for allies and men from wherever they could take them, and Brigid was ripe with fresh soldiers, and still, in name, a vassal state to the Empire. With her grandfather as leader because of her youth, Petra had been free to leave Brigid to answer the call of the promise they had all made, but now he requested his granddaughter's aid... and Petra had asked for Dimitri's in return.

"To think, my first foray to the field after Grondor would be not Fhirdiad, not Enbarr, but Brigid... Had you told me this moons ago, I would have called you a fool. Yet... There I went, all the same..." Dimitri mused quietly, thinking of that strong, quiet, but sincere intensity that had inflamed Petra's adust eyes when she had come to him, not as a comrade but as another future ruler with the request to help free her homeland from the Empire, and amass sorely needed troops for the rebellion's next move... He was not sure if her bravery had impressed him, or had cowed him. She was a ruler in training, unlike his fellow nobles, with an entire country to shoulder, and she carried the burden far better than he ever could. She spoke plainly and factually, that with or without him she would be returning to Brigid to meet the Empire's forces head-on to protect her homeland... but he would not permit her to do so. "I don't believe I was wrong to go with her... No, it _was_ the right thing to do, but... I admit, selfishly, I was glad for the opportunity to show my mettle, and my honesty. Perhaps that's why she told me from the start. She did not need my permission to return home. She certainly did not need my blessing, either... She could have rallied a group of men all on her own, and I know the entirety of our class would have leapt at the chance to give her aid, yet she came to me all the same... I owe her much for how things have gone, since then... Taking back Brigid, ensuring her homeland's safety and well-being... It was _right_ , and it... it gave me the chance I had been seeking."

The battle had been a hard one, but he had not allowed Petra to fight it alone, despite her insistence that if he was not of mind to give her aid, she would not judge him poorly. She had pragmatic opinions of the fighting between the Kingdom and the Empire, knowing that Brigid needed to step out of the shadows in order to join either as a commanding, respected country of its own rather than a vassal state... and either side would have granted her this opportunity. Yet, she had also admitted it was loyalty to Raine and to the Blue Lions that had made her answer the call to the promise first, and pragmatism for Brigid's best interests second... and while she was here, fighting alongside the rebellion... She would be a Blue Lion first, and a queen-to-be second. That thought had goaded him more than anything else into pledging himself to her cause, and he had taken to the field alongside her, ready, willing and determined to prove his words were not empty... and grateful, painfully grateful, that she would allow for it after the way she had said so plainly that the end of the Kingdom was of no consequence to her if it did not impact her homeland.

"With Brigid secured, and protected, we have added more men to our army... and Petra has thrown her support wholly behind me. I do not deserve it, but she has called it a simple choice. If I were to risk life and limb for her homeland, even if it was of benefit to myself and our fight... Then she saw no reason to not give her loyalty to me, as she gave to you." Dimitri wondered at the woman's confidence, as well as her ability to cut aside details and nuance to get to the heart of the matter, but he appreciated her and her simple wisdom deeply. She was a stalwart ally, and one he considered himself lucky to have on his side. She would have been a ferocious enemy otherwise, and he did not want to imagine how the circumstances could have changed, had they never been comrades to begin with. The thought made him smile wryly, and he almost chuckled as he mused softly, "If I am lucky, then I must admit I consider Ashe to be blessed. He threw his support behind her without question, and she was not remiss in showing her gratitude to him rather... openly. She took him with her to meet her grandfather, despite all objections he raised, and he raised many... The Kingdom will miss him, when he eventually goes to Brigid, but if he is to find his dream and happiness there... It will be of no consequence to us."

He had wondered at first, when it had all began and how he had missed it, but stepping back from the shadows and looking at things with new eyes had opened his mind to the reality of all that was going on with his old friends and comrades. He had missed it simply because he could not bear to look at it. It was easier to ignore the small, desperate grabs for happiness and peace that his friends were snatching for themselves in the midst of the war than it was to see them and feel glad for them, as it only was a sharp reminder of what he did not have, and what, deep down, he sorely wanted. Envy had made him as much of a monster as revenge had, but at least now, he could say honestly, that he no longer felt those dark pangs of jealousy for the things he saw. Instead there was only happiness, true and deep happiness, because he knew how precious those moments could be, and what strength could be derived from it when all seemed grim and dark.

"You had said at the great bridge, that this was what we were fighting for. I had pretended not to understand... but I knew what you meant. Seeing Ferdinand and Dorothea... I knew. How could I not? It was that very thing that drove me mad in the first place... and you knew it, too." Dimitri sighed, both with guilt and regret, but his lips were still slightly upturned with a painful sort of amusement and happiness... He felt for his comrades, and he shared their joy and their comfort, even if it was only from afar. It was soothing to see, happiness and love blooming amongst the bloodstained fields of battle, but that too, was also the way of war. Life was short already. Battle made it shorter. To seize happiness where it could be taken, regardless of the consequence, of the duration of that happiness... That was natural human selfishness... and he did not wish to deny them a moment of it, or think it useless. He knew better, and would act accordingly, as he knew she wanted him to. "You knew, and were seeking to stop it before it could even begin, regardless of what it cost you. How many lives have you saved? How much happiness can we directly trace back to your doings...? The chains of command have been cruel to you, but you have not allowed them to make you cruel in return... It's that aspect of you that has allowed you to make former enemies into your most staunch of allies."

Ferdinand had approached him already to beg for a place to be put, whether on the battlefield or no, so he could repay his debts... and in another lifetime, Dimitri knew he would have thrown him from the monastery, or killed him outright because of his former allegiance. Now...? All he could feel was shame, shame and a deep sense of mourning for the desperation Ferdinand had showed to him at his lowest. He was a broken man, no longer capable of fighting, but still so desperate to pay back the woman who had led him home instead of striking him down when she had stood as his enemy. His life, and his happiness, he owed directly to Raine. The fact that he could do nothing now to support her, that he couldn't wield a lance in her name... It broke him, and Dimitri knew just how deeply that guilt had to run.

"Ferdinand is a good man. A loyal, patriotic man... He has been done a grave wrong, and he has done many wrongs in return, but... I cannot say that he was misguided. It would be hypocritical. At the very least, for him, all he ever wished was for the good of his homeland, and when he knew it had gone too far, he was ready to throw down his weapon in disgust... Saving him from himself was the right choice to make... but I wonder if you thought beyond that..." Dimitri let out another low breath, and he glanced to the ceiling thoughtfully. Ferdinand had presented a unique opportunity to him, to them all, as a former noble of high esteem in the Empire, and though Edelgard had stripped him and his family of their titles and land... He still, by blood, was someone with massive power and influence inside of their enemy's country. "He has said that though his days as a soldier are over, he is still a noble... and he hopes, someday and somehow, when Edelgard and her taint have been washed from the Empire that perhaps reforms can be made for his homeland. He is not ignorant to the fact that this war will tear down the Empire... but he still hopes for it to be rebuilt. And that... That is not a thought I have given much time to. Is it a possibility? Can the Empire be reformed and rebuilt, if this war is won...? Have you thought of such things already? Have you hoped for them?"

She didn't answer, but Dimitri did not need her to. He knew her well enough to know it had to have at least crossed her mind, with how she had spoken so fiercely of the fact that the Emperor was not the Empire entire, regardless of how it had to have looked to him. There were soldiers and smallfolk alike being crushed underneath the boot of Edelgard's rule, and to first free them, it meant cutting off the head of the snake... but what was to be done of the remnants left behind afterwards? He was not a conqueror, regardless of what his wishes had once been. He had given no thought or energy to what would come _afterwards_. Such thoughts had never even occurred to him... but he knew the same could not be said of her.

"Despite what you said to us as students, to look at the battle ahead and never beyond the horizon of it... You cannot practise what you preach now as a commander. You have never been looking at the battle at your feet. You've been ten steps ahead, of both all of us, and of her... and now, you leave me wondering if you've been even farther into the future, planning for the end, and what lays even beyond that." The thought made him chuckle ruefully, but it also left him with a bittersweet sort of understanding. Her exhaustion made far more sense when he looked to her in this light, rather than in the other. She was never simply looking to the present. She couldn't afford to do so, not when she knew her enemy would not be content to do the same. So she changed her ways, her methods, to match and get ahead... and get ahead she had, if the battle in Grondor had proven anything. "A truce with the Alliance, built right under our noses... and a possible foothold into the Empire, to establish peace and hope of rebuilding and reformation, when the war ends... Not only have you put the future of Faerghus onto your shoulders, but the entirety of Fódlan, too... and you spoke nothing of it to anyone. Forgive me."

A conflicted sense of satisfaction and anger burnt inside of his chest and made his eye smart, and he wondered at the outrage he was feeling on her behalf. It was something he was only realizing and therefore only coming to grips with, but it made him understand Warin's anger and hatred in a far more intimate way now. The mercenary had claimed, without a hint of deceit, that he cared not for the continent and its squabbles, and would sooner watch it burn than risk his neck to put out the fires it itself had lit... and he could understand now why he felt that way. All of his life, too, had been a path dictated for him by his father, and by the fear of the Church of Seiros, and only now was he free of those bonds. Yet he stayed, stayed because he had given himself one chain and one chain only to abide by, and that chain was his sister. And his sister... His sister was wrapped from head to toe in chains, and not one of those chains could she remove of her own volition.

No, instead they had been wrapped around her, choking and strangling and weighing her down until she could barely crawl underneath the weight of it all. But crawled on she did, because she knew no other way of life, and Dimitri burned for her in indignance even if she would not, or could not do so for herself. The church had robbed her of her family, and then had forced a burden she was completely unprepared for onto her shoulders. She had lost five years, only to return and once again have a mantle she did not want shoved into her hands, and not one soul had tried to make it easier for her since. It made him hate himself, himself and the Church for what they were forcing her to do, and he admitted that in a ragged breath, "Archbishop Rhea called you "chosen" by the Goddess... but what has that given you, really...? What blessing has she bestowed on you, in return for all she's demanded? Was this how Saint Seiros felt, when she led her army against Nemesis? Burdens upon burdens... Aching for freedom... because she did not want what the Goddess had demanded of her? Is that why, in Grondor... you looked so peaceful... because you believed it was finally over?"

The words burnt on his tongue, bit deep into his soul, but he had seen what no one else had in that dimming light in her seafoam-green eyes that day. The relief that she showed was not only for his safety. It was one fact he had absolute confidence in. Despite the pain of her wounds, despite the obvious suffering she was enduring... She had smiled, not only for him, but also for herself. He had felt that wanting before, he still felt that wanting even now, but never had he had the strength or the will to act upon it. No, he had reasoned that when the time came, it would come at the sword of someone he had wronged, of someone he had indirectly harmed on his own bloody path, and then he would see the flames take him for all of his sins. But even then, he knew, he would feel relief for the end to have finally come to claim him. That same feeling he had seen on her face that day, even if it tortured him to admit it, and it made his hands clench on his knees as he asked, begged in a shaken, agonized whisper, "Did you wish for death that badly, Professor...? Did we... Did _I..._ force you so tightly into a corner that death would be a relief for you?"

No answer came, but he did not need, nor truly want to have one. Either kind, a denial or an admittance would break him when he already knew the truth. He could only hope no one else would know, that no one else would guess, lest that guilt spread like a plague amongst the men and the Blue Lions. Already they were wilting, coming to grips with the fact that again they had all failed her in their own ways, and he was not sure this failure was something they could live with. It was taking too much from all of them to rally again without her, which only made him ache all the more fiercely. She was truly the glue that held them all together, and without her... There really was no one else capable of filling her shoes, regardless of how they tried.

Dimitri took in a deep, shuddery breath, and reminded himself of why he had come. There was still more for him to tell, more for him to ruminate on, and to spend his precious minutes in a cycle of self-loathing and guilt would do him no good. It was true he would find no counsel from an unconscious woman, but he did not want counsel. He simply wished to speak aloud for once, with no judgement, with no one to either build him up or tear him down. Only she could give him that, and he reached blindly, forcing his voice to steady as he thought for the mission looming on the dawn of the morrow, "Tomorrow... We march out for the Sealed Forest. Caspar came by alarming news of the Death Knight's presence there, as well as a handful of soldiers... Bernadetta only barely managed to keep him from charging out himself then and there... but what worries me more is Mercedes' reaction. She seems just as eager as Caspar to meet the Death Knight again, but she won't speak to anyone on why... To leave them there as they are is out of the question, but I admit, I hesitate on what to do with Mercedes... It isn't as if I have the authority to tell her she cannot go. I have not yet tried to make such a command, nor do I wish to... but I worry for her, all the same. Since the reports, she has not been herself. Even Felix is showing concern."

In the end, Dimitri was already aware that he would likely allow Mercedes to head out along with them to confront the Death Knight and his men, and to try to stop her would be a useless endeavour. She was twice as stubborn as any mule when the mood took her, and she was the one person he did not wish to test the temper of. He had been lucky enough with her aid already. It had been unlooked for but still given readily, but he knew better than to assume it meant forgiveness. After all, who had been the one to stay beside their professor since the moment she had seen her wounded? What she had seen and done in the past several weeks had given her intimate knowledge of Raine's condition... and if she blamed him, which he did not doubt she did... She was holding it tightly to her chest in order to preserve the peace.

"I wonder of their goal, being so close to Garreg Mach, after the defeat in Grondor... It makes little sense to me, and I admit I cannot see the Death Knight being here underneath Edelgard's orders... He has been a ferocious foe each and every time we met him on the field, and to lose him in this manner would be foolish..." Dimitri mused quietly, and he thought of how odd it had felt, and how uncertain it had made him, to hear Warin agree with him when he had been speaking of this opinion beforehand when the news had first broke. Warin's hostility had not ebbed since that day in the rain by the stables, yet in place of his sister, he attended every war meeting, and gave his opinion without pause or care for how his presence looked to the others. Some accepted him without question, viewing him as their professor's equal, but Dimitri was aware that Gilbert did not hold him in the same esteem, and Seteth was still wary of him. Their agreement however on the Death Knight's behaviour had united the table for once though, and he continued with a slow shake of his head, "Guessing at his motives however does not change the threat he poses... and to strike him down now would be another sorely needed boon, if it is manageable... He cannot be left to his own devices, so close to the monastery... He, and his, will be routed with extreme prejudice... and perhaps we will learn something of him, and the men that follow him. From the reports of the scouts, they are not Imperial troops, but soldiers of another league entirely... Perhaps men underneath Thales' command, if your brother's guess is accurate..."

It was too much to speculate on with the little information they had, but Dimitri would admit that at least it had real merit. Had they not, time and time again, seen these darkly-garbed soldiers and mages, interspersed with the Imperial forces at every turn? When reinforcements had arrived in Grondor, Rodrigue had spoken of the fact that only half of their numbers had been flying a flag of the Empire, with the other showing no colours of any sort. While it was true they worked in tandem, they was a clear divide between them nonetheless... and more and more, Dimitri was realizing that where these dark-robes appeared, Demonic Beasts always were quick to follow. The Death Knight's appearance matched this pattern, so the odds were high that perhaps he was acting out of step with the wishes of the Imperial army... but that only rose questions of who he served, why, and what his motives were for breaking the illusion of his being a faithful servant of the Emperor.

"Tomorrow, perhaps we will find answers... If we do not, I cannot say it will be a loss. They must be driven from our territory to ensure the safety of our men, and the surrounding villages... Only with that can we leave Garreg Mach for Fhirdiad, at the end of the moon... I would not dare risk a march of our forces so far from the monastery otherwise." The call for the capitol was strong, incredibly strong, but Dimitri knew he had to weigh his desires to show himself trustworthy to natural prudence. Taking the best with him for a strike to the Dukedom meant leaving the monastery undermanned, even with their bolstered numbers, and the knowledge that the Empire was still in complete disarray was only a small comfort. But it meant the window was closing with each day they delayed, and the pressure was a tight, unrelenting grip.

"Rodrigue assures me my concern is unneeded. Though Grondor has not been taken formally by any territory, we still hold the Great Bridge... and the Alliance has sent a small force to aid us in keeping it well-manned. A token of goodwill, Claude had called it... Wrestled from him nearly at lance-point, no doubt, if Warin is to be believed..." Dimitri sighed and ran a hand tiredly through his hair again, and he wondered at what other difficulties would arise from the Alliance leader. He had been firm in wanting to deal with Raine and Raine only, but that had been out of the question then. Dimitri knew full well when word of her recovery reached his ears that the request for favours would come pouring in... and they could not be ignored after what had occurred in Grondor. After all, despite Raine's best efforts, the Alliance forces had taken nearly as much damage as the Imperial army, and their need would be great if they, too, planned to take the war to the home-front, before turning their attention to driving out the remnants of the Empire's grip on their territory. "Yet, for all his willingness to fight alongside us in Grondor, I suppose he is only looking out for his best interests. To keep his own men stationed on the bridge keeps the Alliance's troops aware of both the Empire and rebellion's movements... He is wary of us, and he has his rights to be. Grondor was a stroke of good fortune. Such things rarely occur twice. If we wish to prove ourselves allies of merit, it is best we work alongside one another now, and not later."

Which only led to the one question that had been whispered about, but not yet spoken of aloud, even at the war councils... Once the Alliance had stability, as the Kingdom would... Would they turn their men to Enbarr, or allow for the Empire and Kingdom to fight the rest of the war out? There was no doubt that a two-pronged attack upon the capitol would have the most chance of success, but to make any such request of the Alliance was not something Dimitri could do. Claude had already made it clear any negotiation that would take place about truces and treaties would only be something he would consider if Raine was the one to speak with him, and Dimitri had no intention of trying to take her place on such unsteady ground. It did not matter that it seemed a matter of simple mathematics. Claude had his own worries to concern himself with, and if he had no interest in aiding the rebellion further, that was not a position that could be challenged by the likes of him. Not when only two moons prior, he had not considered the idea of a truce with the Alliance at all.

His eyelids felt heavy, and his body was aching both with the pain of his still-healing wounds, and the reminder that more battle was to come with the dawn. He could not stay without risking falling asleep in the chair he sat in, and with great difficulty, Dimitri forced himself back to his feet. The last thing he needed, that anyone needed, was knowing he had snuck into the infirmary to see her alone and in the depths of the night. Any goodwill he had scraped and clawed for would disappear in an instant, and it would be well deserved.

Still... For a moment, Dimitri lingered at her side as he watched her closely... Longingly. Her hand peeked out from the corner of the blanket, small, and pale... and without thought, he stooped to reach and brush his fingers along the back of it. Her skin was warm, a jarring change from that day in Grondor, and unbidden, a sigh of relief escaped him. Her hand felt soft, softer than a hand that had been holding a sword for the majority of its life had any right to be... and it felt incredibly fragile underneath his own. Was it his Crest's strength that made it seem so, or simply the fact that she was still laying unconscious? He could not tell, and he did not want to. His fingertips traced the shape of her knuckles, lingering on her own fingers before he sighed softly, "You've saved me with these hands more times than I can count... Guided me, led me through the dark, and pulled me unceremoniously back into the light when I was sure it was the end... I'd be a liar if I said I didn't want to hold onto your hands for the rest of my days, and keep them warm for the rest of your life. Warm, safe, and clean of the blood you'd have to spill on my account... When you wake... I will tell you everything. And when you reject me... I'll stay your guardian in the shadows, until the day comes when someone better than I can finally give you the happiness you deserve... but I won't forget. I wont forget... and I will never stop loving you. I swear it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> As uneventful as a piece this is, I still had to write it to really showcase all that's gone on, how hard it's been, and how difficult life really is for the rebellion without their professor there to be guiding them. In every route, it's made explicitly clear that any success that is gained really is owed to Byleth. Even in CF, when the Imperial army has everything it needs to continue on forward... They still stall out at the timeskip because they are simply that handicapped by Byleth's absence. (And their successes are even fewer than in all routes where Edelgard is not your chosen lord, which is even more darkly humourous, depending on your take of things.) Having a Byleth be taken out mid-game, even if only for a little while, I imagine creates a similar amount of chaos considering the sheer weight they're carrying as leader of the rebellion, regardless of whether or not they took that leadership willingly, or had it shoved unceremoniously onto them.
> 
> Of course, in AM, it's pretty damn clear Raine is struggling underneath something she didn't sign up for, and it's really only being noticed now because of her extreme measures in keeping Dimitri safe. Her idea however of how well they could continue without her sadly is not a realistic one. Dimitri's proven himself less than trustworthy, and to gain back the respect and faith of his men, he needs both time and opportunity to do so, and that is both in short supply. (Hence the mentions of some paralogues, which would give him those chances.) And that is something clearly lacking in AM, a good, strong arc of rebuilding Dimitri back up from the ground, but I can understand time constraints. Thankfully, fanfiction is a great cure for it, as I like to say.
> 
> Raine however will be recovering from being out of action next chapter, so no more worries for her. Still, I can imagine you guys can guess where she'll be thrown next, being up and about now. Any predictions on how it will go, or the rating it will deserve? I'm wondering at your guesses! And how about the plot? What do you think I'm leading up to, if I haven't been clear enough on it? Or, perhaps, what do you hope I'm leading up to? Any feedback would be nice, as always!
> 
> PS: Warin and Raine's chat is coming, but unfortunately it's still a few chapters out, as the next two chapters are Dimitri/Raine centric. However, I haven't forgotten about him, and he will be having a serious sit-down with his sister, but timing is sadly everything, and I can't cover too many topics per chapter, or push everything into one moon. His moment with Raine will be taking place after Fhirdiad's capture, so I'll beg for patience as I continue on writing! Thanks for the understanding!
> 
> Anyway, it's time for me to sign off and go back to sleep, as per usual. Thank you so much for reading this far, and I hope you have a good one. Please leave a review should you feel the need, and I'll see you again soon!
> 
> Mood: Sore.
> 
> Listening To: "Living in the Shadows" - Matthew Perryman Jones (Love, Death and Robots)
> 
> ~ Sky


	14. Truth and Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Introspective. (T)
> 
> Characters: Raine, Dimitri.
> 
> Summary: Waking up in the infirmary had been an unpleasant surprise for her, especially with her back burning from the still-healing scar of the dagger-wound she had received in Grondor. What had followed in her three-week-long absence from leadership however had proven a better sort of shock, though she still remained guarded at all the news that was trickled to her by word of mouth from her healers. It would take several more days before she was discharged formally, several days of visits and well-wishes and excited and relieved smiles that made her feel a liar to answer with one of her own across her face... but she could wait until she was sequestered in her own room to be honest with herself. At the very least there, in privacy, she could sigh and rest in peace. A turn to Fhirdiad was good news... but the continued absence of the "reformed" Dimitri was a worry. She would chase after him eventually, as she knew she had to, but asking for one more night of quiet couldn't be too much, could it?

**Harpstring Moon**

**Dormitories (Professor's Quarters)**

**Twilight**

Raine glanced over her shoulder as she sat on the edge of her bed, looking at her reflection silently as her fingertips grazed that gently throbbing patch of skin that had seen more magic than the rest of her body likely had even after her many years of battle. She had denied the first offer she had been given of seeing the wound that had taken her out of the action for three long weeks when she had first woken up in the infirmary several days ago, and though she didn't regret her choice... She had to admit, she wasn't entirely sure if what she was looking at was a pleasant, or an unpleasant sight. It was not the worst kind of scar she could have had from a stab wound, and she knew her body was a mess of them, as was the way of any mercenary... but it had been a grave wound, and one that had caused all sorts of chaos from the moment it had been inflicted on her in the fields of Grondor.

The dagger had come close to killing her. Too close... Yet the scar it left wasn't as bad as the condition she had been in afterwards. It was a rough, jagged mark in her shoulderblade, right overtop of her heart and carving in downwards, but otherwise there was no real sign of outer damage. All of the injury had been inside, with the blood loss and the shock and her already flagging body, or at least, that was how Mercedes had explained it to her when she had been conscious enough to hear the details. The wounds she had been ignoring during the battle had done worse to her body overall than that single stab in the back, but it had been enough in the end to bring her down. She had already been on the verge of collapse, physically and mentally... That last wound had been the final straw.

Raine sighed as she twisted herself slightly further to get a better look, though she wasn't entirely sure why she wanted one. She had accumulated many scars over the years. Lance wounds, arrowheads that she had been forced to dig out with a dagger, slashing axe and sword injuries... and hidden under bandages and tonics and magic they had all healed, and eventually faded until she couldn't really even remember where most of them had come from. This one however she doubted would be falling under that category anytime soon, but she knew better than to really care. Personal appearance had never been important to her. A scar was just a scar. She was only happy that her sword-arm was still functional.

Still, her fingertips brushed with careful, hesitant interest over the raised and darkly reddened skin... There was little pain left in it, after all of the healing that had been forced into her body. It ached more than anything, but even that was little and rather easy to ignore. What was worse was the grogginess, the weight of her body being active again after having been in a coma for three weeks, but she had known better than to complain about that. Manuela, Dorothea and Mercedes had all looked as ill as she had felt on waking, and learning they had spent the better part of three weeks looking after her ceaselessly... No, complaining was out of the question. It would be far too selfish, and childish, to complain.

Instead, for the following several days, Raine had played the part of a perfect patient until she had been discharged. She had rested, taken her medications and remedies, and done whatever she had been told without a word of argument. She hadn't asked after anyone, not after being told the mission in Grondor had been a success and all had come out alive, but unfortunately, the hope of not being asked after hadn't lasted very long. As soon as word had spread that she was awake, the stream of visitors and well-wishers had started... and no amount of scolding from any of her healers could keep the crowd at bay.

It had been difficult, pasting a smile over her face when she had greeted her students and fellow generals, but she had somehow managed it despite how tired and irritated she had felt at first. Thankfully Mercedes had at least managed to enforce a "greet and go" rule that left her undisturbed after the initial hubbub, and for that she knew she owed Mercedes a great deal. Now, discharged with only the caveat that she keep from the training fields for at least another day or two... Raine was permitted to be well and truly alone, and she both basked in the silence, and bristled with unease in it.

How long would she be given, before she would be thrust back into leadership? She wasn't quite sure, especially with the news that Dimitri had apparently turned over a new leaf during her absence. It was obvious he still didn't have the full support of the rebellion, but he had made strides, and those strides were being recognized. At the very least, the majority of the Blue Lions seemed convinced that his change of heart was real, and they were all onboard for his next move into Fhirdiad. She, at least, also agreed with that, and was happy to hear that he was turning from Enbarr and back homewards... but it still did not make her any more comfortable with all she had missed out on, and all that was still to come.

A near takeover in Brigid by the desperate Imperial army, an encounter with the Death Knight _far too close_ to Garreg Mach, along with the knowledge that the man underneath that skeletal helmet was Mercedes' brother... Raine shivered. She would have preferred to have been there, for Petra and Mercedes both, but there was no helping it now. The Death Knight had fled, though he had left his sister a Hero's Relic as some morbid sort of parting gift, and Caspar and Bernadetta would soon be leaving the monastery as well. She had been glad to see the two in good health and good spirits, and hadn't begrudged them their decision to continue to wander and avoid the worst of the war as best they could... Bernadetta wanted nothing to do with the conflict, and Caspar was ceding to her wishes, as best as he was able. When the Empire finally fell, perhaps a return home would be in their future, but that was something they weren't speaking of aloud, and Raine didn't blame them for a moment.

Another shiver sent goosebumps racing up and down her skin, and Raine sighed as she glanced about idly for her shirt and cloak. She had removed all of her bandaging and clothing to inspect herself fully in the privacy in her room, but sitting topless in the dormitories for nearly an hour on end, inspecting her scar and falling into thought wasn't doing her still-recovering body any favours. She still quite at risk for getting sick again, and with the strict diet that was to follow her recovery plan of rest and lesser duties, Raine was well aware she was not quite yet out of the woods.

They had called her a mess of a patient, and Raine had been forced to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from making dark japes that she doubted any single one of her healers would have appreciated. She had known she was a mess, and she had simply lacked the energy or the will to care or do anything about it. Her lost weight, the multitude of ill-cared for injuries, the lack of sleep that had made her weak in both the mind and body... She knew full well she was not healthy, and she also knew full well she was on her way to careening headlong off a cliff if she continued as she was. The problem was that she simply did not have it in her to care.

There were too many other things that were taking precedence, and anything even remotely personal had to be shoved aside if she wanted to deal with it all. There was no real help to be gained from her "advisors", and most of what she did, she did alone, or in secrecy. There was training to be seen to, rations to be dealt out, supplies to be gained, alliances and truces to be maintained, and missions upon missions upon missions to prepare for. And that wasn't even beginning to delve into the finer details of keeping her soldiers supplied with weapons and intelligence, while simultaneously lying through her teeth to her advisors of her real doings with her students in between the heavy burdens of battle. It was enough to drive anyone with any real experience mad and to exhaustion, and she had none of the experience needed to be obeyed, or even taken remotely seriously on her best days. For all of the leadership they wished for her to do... She certainly wasn't getting an iota of respect for it.

At the very least, the apologies Seteth, Gilbert, and Rodrigue had all given to her in the infirmary had been something she had enjoyed taking, even though it had irritated her beyond belief to be hearing it _now_ of all times. She had been forced to prove herself worthy by way of subterfuge, long after the mantle of leading had been placed on her shoulders, before they really would consider her ideas to have merit. If it hadn't been for Manuela, enraged on her behalf and kicking the lot of them from the infirmary personally, Raine would have likely taken her sword in hand herself and beaten the lot of the men over the head with it until someone restrained her. Not a one of them had come by for a second visit, and she hoped they would keep their distance for awhile longer until seeing any of them didn't fill her with the rabid desire to punch the lot of them straight in the mouth.

Three loud knocks on the door brought her from her reverie, and Raine looked over her shoulder to it before letting out a long, tired sigh. No one had come to see her since she had left the infirmary, and she doubted anyone was foolish enough to try and speak to her in her own quarters now that she had been banished to them. The healers had made themselves perfectly clear that while she was awake she was still not _better_ , and if everyone wished for a full recovery, they would be best leaving her alone as much as physically possible. When she returned of her own will they could bombard her as they wished, but that was still a few days coming. The only one likely to ignore those orders were her brother, and he had only visited her once in the infirmary, with a nod and all the information he knew she wanted before he had left her alone to heal and to rest. To say she appreciated his kindness was an understatement, and if he wished to visit her now... She couldn't very well turn him away.

"Come on in, Warin. The door is unlocked, so no point in standing out in the cold on ceremony." Raine called idly over her shoulder as she reached for the nearest shirt on hand and stood, stretching her muscles carefully as that throbbing set up again almost at once at her movement. Her back was still firmly to the door as she began to pull the fabric down, and she heard the heavy wood opening quietly, before suddenly slamming shut with a loudly exclaimed oath made in a voice that was most assuredly _not_ her brother's.

Leaping like a scalded cat, Raine forced the shirt down well past its stretching point in a desperate attempt to get it somewhere near her knees, and she backed into the corner of her room with both a mixture of horror and shame. The door was shut and she was alone again, but that didn't matter. She knew that voice, and she knew exactly what he had seen in his error of opening the door at her instruction. He likely hadn't heard her call for her brother, and only for permission to enter, and she couldn't entirely blame him for that... yet, as heat burnt in both her ears and her shoulder... Raine hesitated as she wondered what in the seven hells she was supposed to do next after realizing Dimitri had walked in on her, likely having seen her half-undressed before cursing and quickly making an exit so not to make a scene.

'Too late for that...' Raine mused with a bitter shake of her head, and she took in several deep breaths to calm the racing thoughts in her head and find control of herself again. She had been thinking of him, of tracking him down for a long-needed and long-coming talk, but she hadn't expected he would beat her to it. If anything, she had assumed he was avoiding her. He hadn't appeared amongst the many who had come to visit, and from her knowledge, even when she had been unconscious, Dimitri had been giving the entire building the infirmary was in a huge berth, and had even taken to holding the war councils in the Knight's Hall, rather than the war room. She wasn't sure whether his avoidance was purposeful, or if he was being chased away from her by the others, but she honestly hadn't had the energy to wonder over it too much. Any news she had heard from the mouths of others had been good, which she was glad for, but she wouldn't believe anything until she saw it for herself. She simply hadn't been ready yet for that, and had promised once she was feeling stronger, she would get to it as soon as she could.

"Clearly, not even _you_ give a damn about what I'm ready for, so why make him wait?" Raine addressed the corner of her room where Sothis has once always resided with an acidic bite to her voice that she regretted almost at once, but she was running quickly both out of options, and of patience. Nothing had gone her way since she had woken up to her father's call in Remire more than five years prior, and her streak was simply continuing on as it had always done. There was little to do but follow along like the puppet she was, and it both made her mouth taste sour as well as turned her hands into fists at her side as she sidestepped about her bed and marched to the door to open it. She was tired, tired and annoyed, and saw little point in delaying the inevitable. If he was still there, she could at least get it all over with now before she was driven to drinking out of pure spite for whatever could be called "luck". If he had turned tail and run, like a sensible creature, she could at least hold onto a semblance of her dignity for another night.

The door swung open, revealing him to still be standing there, half-turned away and face hidden in the shadows, and she idly made a mental note to thank the Goddess when she saw her again for whatever sick sense of humour she had for playing this joke on her so soon after her discharge. There was nothing but a quiet thrall of anger burning somewhere deep in her stomach, and it made her reckless, reckless and sharp as she demanded without preamble, patience, or an ounce of empathy, "What? What in the seven hells do _you_ want with me this late at night? If you've a bone to pick with me, can it not wait until morning? I'm tired. I'm sore. And if you haven't yet caught on, I'm also really not in the mood to be putting up with yet another one of you blue-blooded, arrogant bastards scraping and clawing at my door for advice you never seem to want to heed. Whatever it is you want, make it quick, before I decide Grondor really would have made for a _lovely_ grave."

For a moment, Dimitri had absolutely no response as the river of pure venom flooded out of his professor's mouth and directly poured onto him. Whatever it had been that he expected, this reaction certainly had not been it, even if he knew somewhere deep in his mind that it was most certainly not uncalled for. It had been quite some time since he had heard her speak so harshly, so honestly, but from the tired, burnt-out look in her eyes, he knew she found no joy in it. She was not her brother, after all, and her empathy had always far outweighed her own selfishness... yet these words came freely, and he had to wonder for a mad moment if perhaps she had been the one to teach Warin how to speak, and not the other way around.

Silence stretched for a mad few heartbeats as Dimitri scrambled to find an answer to her vitriol. He had come too soon, he knew that now, but there was no rectifying that. If he tucked tail, apologized and fled, there would never be another chance for him. She would see him as a coward, and he would be rightfully branded one for the rest of his days. It was not ideal, but what was? There was simply nothing ideal about any of this. He could do nothing but soldier forward now. It was all he had left. He spoke quietly, forcing his dry mouth to find and speak the words as those cool, empty seafoam-coloured eyes glared at him in the faint candlelight, "F... Forgive me, I... I realize my timing isn't... I apologize. I wished to speak to you, about a... myriad of things, but... if you don't wish to see anyone, then it can wait. It isn't... nearly that important."

There was more silence as Dimitri focussed his stare firmly on his boots, awaiting a cold command to leave that he intended to follow without complaint or defiance, and he was surprised when a long, exhausted sigh escaped the lips of the woman before him instead. She was no longer looking at him, but rather had also averted her own eyes, and her expression was no longer alight with wrath, but rather drawn and tired, as he remembered it having being for the last several moons. With one little outburst everything seemed to have been taken out of her, and she leaned heavily on the doorframe as she asked with only a small trace of disbelief to colour her tone, "It's not that important? After three long weeks of running yourself about the monastery, everywhere but the one place where I was in a desperate effort to avoid breathing the same air as me, you march yourself up to my door in the middle of the night, and now it isn't important? I'm a poor liar, but you're proving yourself worse. What is it that you want?"

The words were barbed, but her tone was tired and wary, and it left Dimitri fumbling again for a proper answer. How did she manage to switch masks so quickly? That anger had been indignant and sharp and righteous, but now she was reigning it all back in, and proving herself too tired to continue with it even if it still had to be burning somewhere deep within her. He knew it had to be, as an anger that potent didn't just simply disappear after a single outburst, but... She had always proven him wrong before. He clenched and unclenched his hands, unsure of how to proceed, and he could only give her the truth as he shook his head and repeated quietly, honestly, "I only... want to speak with you. Not of the war, or... anything that pertains to it... Not even as two soldiers. Just... you and I. If you would be willing."

More silence followed, and Dimitri could feel her stare on him, keen and searching as she hesitated in answering him. He could feel her trying to find if he had an ulterior motive, if his current show of politeness was merely a mask, but he could do nothing but stand and wait and be judged. He had already promised himself before he had come to her door that whatever she said, whatever she demanded of him, would be exactly how he acted from this day forward, and his plans had not changed regardless of his initial reception. Still, it did little to comfort him when he heard her let out another long-suffering sigh when she replied quietly, "Fine. Come inside, then. I don't have anything to offer you right now, considering the hour, but I doubt that really matters."

Dimitri waited until she stepped in first to offer him entry, and quietly, hesitantly, he took the steps into her quarters and allowed her to shut the door behind him. For a moment however, he did and said nothing as he cast a glance about his surroundings with a fair degree of surprise. The last time he had been in her quarters, it had been depressingly sparse... Now, it almost seemed as if it belonged to someone else. Her desk was the same as ever, cluttered with books and papers and maps, with her cloak hanging haphazardly over the chair, and yet... Everything else had changed, and left him wondering.

A small bookshelf had been built beside her desk, and it was full of titles he recognized from home. He had little doubt that Ashe and Ingrid had helped her with such a collection, though on closer inspection, he could also make out names that hailed from Brigid, and even Imperial and Alliance territory. Her collection of whetstones was still where it had been last, though one stone had been removed from the pile to be placed on the top of her bookshelf. It didn't look anything different from the others besides the fact that it had not yet been used, but the placement proved she had no intent of putting it to her sword. As if it had been a gift of some sort, and she wanted to keep it somewhere safe and out of the way. A folded up chessboard was also hidden underneath the paperwork on her desk, another gift, he assumed, and he noticed a mirror hanging on the wall, by her bed, where he knew one hadn't been there beforehand. All things he had never seen the last time he had been there, and all things, small and insignificant as they were, that somehow made the room seem so much more full than it had once been.

Raine, not seeming to notice his preoccupation, took her cloak from her chair and instead folded it neatly before placing it on the corner of her cot. She sat down beside it, silently offering him the chair at her desk, as she ran a tired hand over her face and through her hair. Her bandages had already been discarded into the wastebin, and she hadn't left anything else out of place, so she didn't concern herself with how her quarters had to look. She knew it was a mess, especially after having spent so many weeks using it as both a place to hide and her only workspace, but she was too tired to care. She did, however, notice as Dimitri took a seat at her desk that _he_ looked rather different than when she had last taken a good look at him, and she remarked with a raised eyebrow, "Are you copying Felix purposefully, or is that just a style in Faerghus?"

"Ah... No, this was... a suggestion from Mercedes. When I first... tried to take over your duties, she told me that perhaps a fresh start also required a different... look, I think her words were. I didn't have anything to lose by trying, and as of now, it seems to be going over well." Dimitri explained with a hint of embarrassment, and he pulled somewhat awkwardly at his bangs as he realized with a strange pang that Raine had not seen him at all since falling in Grondor, and much of what he had done, or what he was doing, had to still be a mystery to her. She had likely heard enough from her near-constant stream of visitors since her awakening, but it had been some time, quite some time, since they had last truly spoken. He could not count that stolen night in the infirmary while she had slept, and he would not count it, but the realization that she was seeing him "anew" for the first time made his chest ache.

But was she, he wondered? She was keeping a healthy distance from him as she always had since they had reunited those few moons ago, as if she fully expected him to explode in a wrath if she said or did the wrong thing. She had invited him into her quarters, but she still had the entirety of her room between the two of them, and that distance felt like miles. Was she afraid of him? He had given her every right to be, if that was the case. But to ask such a thing... It was beyond him, and it kept him quiet as he watched her watching him with raised eyebrows, and only the faintest hint of a smile playing about her lips. She was shaking her head, perhaps in amusement of Mercedes' actions and his own willingness to play along with them, and she remarked idly as he continued to watch her silently, "It's different, I'll grant you that much. Though it certainly does say "Mercedes". She would be the one to suggest something like that to you. I suppose I'm more surprised that you obliged her, than anything else."

"I've... made many concessions, these past few weeks. Filling your shoes is not an easy task... but it was one I chose to do. Anything that would make it easier was something I could not just turn down without thought, even if it was something as insignificant as changing my appearance." Dimitri answered honestly, and he watched as she tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly in thought, but she offered no reply. She did not need to, not as her gaze swept over him sharply, and he wondered just what she had been told, and how much of it had painted him poorly. If he had done that badly of a job, he certainly deserved to have it all laid out at her feet, but he honestly was not sure if he had or not. No one had spoken of it to him, but they _had_ followed him. He supposed it could have been easy, thinking that obedience was approval, and he worked to keep his arms at his sides rather than folding them defensively in front of himself as he continued on, "I'm sure that you have been told that I... made an attempt to lead, in your absence. I cannot honestly say if I did any good. I can only hope I did no harm... It was challenging, taking over your mantle. I admit I don't know how you did it, or do it. But I can say with absolute confidence that I am aware I did not lighten your load... and I wish to apologize for that."

"I've heard of your doings... Everyone kept me relatively abreast of what's happened here in my... absence." Raine acknowledged him with a small nod, and she watched him with some bemusement. He was sitting quietly, almost... timidly, in her chair as he watched and waited for her words. If it wasn't so completely opposite of her last image of him before she had been put into a coma, she almost would have compared him to a whipped dog, looking for scraps at the hand of an abusive master. There was no arrogance to him any longer. Not even a shred of confidence. His body language spoke of a small, frightened man who was expecting reproach, expecting anger, and it confused her almost as much as it made her want to question just what else had happened in these past few weeks that she wasn't being told. It made her hesitant, too, unsure of what to say, or how to say it, and so she simply stuck to honesty as she admitted, "The things I've heard have... mostly been in your favour. No one has said you aren't making an effort to change. Arguments are abound on if it's enough, or if you're doing well of it, but I'll be honest in admitting I won't make a judgement one way or another until I see it myself. I don't like relying on word of mouth from others."

Dimitri said nothing for a moment, biting back thanks he knew he had no right to say. She had not yet judged him, after all. She was only acknowledging she had heard from both parties, and was waiting to see things with her own eyes before she would make a call one way or another. It was more than he deserved, but he also knew it was simply how she was. Still... That guilt burnt like a flame in his gut, and he had to turn his head away. Looking at her was painful. Remembering those cutting words of his friends, of her brother, was painful. He had taken it all to heart, had tried to make his own words apply through his actions, but it had only been a small pittance of time since he had taken up her mantle. He had nothing of true substance to give to her. Nothing but an admittance that he had tried, and he had not tried for long. What was three weeks? She had been under the yoke for moons. It was nothing in comparison. "The conflict in Brigid, as well as the affair with the Death Knight... Both were moments where I had a chance of sorts to prove my words were not empty, and... I can only hope that I acted as you would have in solving both. I... did not wish to act in any other manner. I have been... extremely fortunate to have been granted a second chance. I cannot squander it. I _will not_ squander it. But to prove that, I must act... To act, I must have opportunity. And to be frank... Having an opportunity, where lives must be lost and more fighting is the only outcome... Is not something I wish to wish for."

"That's not at all like the Dimitri I knew in Grondor. You've changed quite a bit to be saying those words." Raine remarked with narrowed eyes, and she realized at once why she was feeling so uncomfortable and wary of him. Nothing about him was familiar. From his demeanour, down to his words, not a thing about him was something she recognized from the past few moons. The man she had met with after her awakening had been desperate for bloodshed, had been wild for the head of his enemy, and now... She shook her head slowly in confusion. If she hadn't already seen the others, a good part of her would have asked if she was still in coma, and dreaming. This was not the Dimitri she had grown to step about, and be cautious of. This was someone else entirely. It made her blunt, perhaps a bit too blunt, but she couldn't deny it as she shook her head again and mused, "If I wasn't sure I was awake, part of me would be asking if I was dreaming. What was it that made you change like this?"

Dimitri was silent as her question went over his head like a bucket of ice water, and he could not find a suitable reply. He supposed it was fair of her to ask, to want to know, and yet... How could she not already see the answer? If no one else had said anything, he supposed perhaps that could be why, but even then it seemed ludicrous. She couldn't be jesting with him. She wasn't the type. Not like this. And it made him frown deeply, and look at her with genuine concern and confusion as he questioned her in response, "You... Are you asking that in jest? Or do you not remember what happened in Grondor?"

"I remember well what happened. That girl... That damned girl I spoke to, leapt out of the bushes while we all were arguing, and took a dagger to you. She almost killed you. And to think, I had been helping that brat with her chores, just two weeks beforehand..." Raine answered flippantly, and she waved a hand as she dismissed his confused and concerned look without much fanfare. Her memory was just fine, despite all of the healing magic that had made her slow and groggy. It would be a memory seared into her mind for years and years to come, and she didn't doubt that for a moment. But it still did not answer her question of what had prompted him to change so suddenly, and she explained that bluntly, "But I remember Grondor perfectly. I remember acting before Rodrigue, and taking his place in front of you. I remember the dagger striking, and I remember thinking that my luck had finally run out. But that still doesn't explain anything. Isn't that the exact scenario you predicted would befall me for my charity? That I'd be stabbed in the back by someone I tried to do well by? I'm not certain why that would spur you to change your outlook. All that happened that day was that you were proven right."

"You nearly died saving my life, and... all you think is that I was proven right?" The words were disgusting on his tongue, and yet Dimitri forced himself to swallow it as he stared at her, uncomprehending and feeling that ball of rage working desperately to make its way up from his stomach. How could she speak so carelessly of her life? Of the impact she had on him? He couldn't see her reasoning, though some mad, wild part of him knew exactly what it was she was speaking of. He remembered full well that he had told her where her charity would lead her, but what had happened in Grondor was nothing like the situation he had spoken of then. And even if it had been... His hands trembled as they grabbed at his knees in a desperate attempt to regain his control. He could not lose his temper with her, simply because she had grown cynical... Simply because she didn't care. It made him plead, desperate to think she was simply misunderstanding, or lying, just to twist the knife in, as that was far more of an acceptable answer than true ignorance, "Please, tell me that you're lying. That this is just some sort of cruel jape. You cannot truly believe that. You cannot _honestly_ believe that."

"Why not?" Raine's question pierced him like a swordstroke, but her eyes were keen as she examined him closely. He was angry, but desperately attempting to reign himself in... and she wondered why. He had never been hesitant to let loose his temper on her before, and she borne it all as stoically as she could. He was trying even to change that, and for the life of her, she couldn't understand why he was so deeply angered by her words and actions. If he wouldn't explain himself fully... Why did she owe him the same? She challenged him coolly, tilting her head to the side as she pointed out none too gently, "It is what you believed, and you said so many a time... If I agree with you now, why does it anger you so much? You won't tell me what changed you, so why do I owe you any explanation on if my opinion has changed or not, either?"

"Because you nearly _died_ for me, damn you! How could that _not_ change me?!" Dimitri felt himself exploding out of the chair as his restraint shattered, and though a great part of him winced as his temper took hold... He could not help himself. She wasn't that blind. He couldn't believe she was. All those moons of trickery, of allowing herself to be his personal target, of trying everything and anything she could to help him fulfil his goals while keeping the amount of blood being shed to a minimum, regardless of what it cost her... She knew better. She had to know better. Or he had done her more of a cruelty than he could ever have imagined, and that only made his anger burn hotter.

He had gotten a good look of her back in that brief moment before he had slammed the door shut again, and the image was seared into his mind and would remain there for whatever pithy excuse of a lifetime he would have left to him. That scar, arcing across her shoulderblade in a dark, crimson reminder of what she had been willing to give for him... A monster, a wretch, and yet she still saw nothing there that warranted a change in him? She had to be lying, or something, somewhere, deep within her had finally broken underneath all of his abuse. And even if that was the case, even if it was true that her cynicism, her flippancy with her own life was his fault... It could not remain that way. He couldn't permit it. He _would not_ permit it. If it was a crack he had drilled into her, then it was one he would fill, and he would do so without delay, and with full prejudice.

His body was trembling with wrath, his hands curled so tightly at his sides that his fingers had lost their feeling, but he couldn't shake away the outrage in exchange for calm. It was impossible. Not when she spoke so damn callously of what she had done. He knew it made him a fool, that he was simply retracing his steps once again back into the shadows, but his words left his lips long before better thought could reign his emotions in, "You took a dagger meant for me, and told me it was what you wanted! You put your life on the line for a wretch of a man like me, and smiled as you did it! And you think that would do _nothing_ to me?! That I'd call you a fool and simply move on?! If you thought that little of me, I could at least accept that, I could even understand and condone it, but then you just leave me wondering why you would bother to save me at all! Did you mean what you said that day, or was it a comforting lie to make letting you go easier?! Which is it?!"

The sudden outburst made her jump, but the words rained in like hot arrowheads, piercing through her unconcerned veil and making her wince each time they struck flesh. He had not moved from where he had stood, but he did not need to in order to look imposing and ferocious as he trembled with indignant rage. His cerulean eye was blazing, but it was a sane blaze, and it made her stomach shrink in on itself as she forced herself to look away from his glare. He was asking her questions that she had no answer to. At least, not answers that she wanted to say aloud. Letting him die was out of the question. There had never been an option where she simply stood by, and allowed what she had seen about to happen simply happen. Her conscience would never have allowed it. And as useless a heart as she had... It would have never allowed for it, either.

Raine wrapped her arms about herself tightly, wishing she hadn't opened that damn door if this was how the night was going to go, but it was far too late for her to turn back the hands of time. And she simply did not have the energy to call upon that power with the damaged state she was in. She could barely lift her blade without her muscles protesting after three solid weeks of disuse. All she could do was sit, small and pathetic on the edge of her bed as she was cornered and without escape, and only the truth would give her freedom, even if it was not a freedom she wanted. She spoke softly, quietly, unable to keep her voice from trembling as she forced the words out against all of her better judgement and sense, "I... I couldn't just... stand by and... do nothing. I couldn't let you, or Rodrigue die out there that day. I... I never would have forgiven myself if I allowed something to happen to you."

"Why?" The retort came sharply, but his voice had dropped from that furious shout to something more resembling a low, fierce growl. He was staring at her still, piercing her through as if he had thrown his lance straight into her chest, and she could neither look up or move underneath the weight of it. He was intimidating as he was... but this? This was something else entirely that frightened her, and it had nothing to do with the idea of physical harm. He did not move from where he had stood, but he did not need to, and he pressed further, unhesitating, merciless as he repeated himself in a deceptively slow voice, "Why would you have never forgiven yourself if you'd allowed justice to take its course? Sparing Rodrigue, that I can understand. He did nothing to deserve a blade. If you were merely holding him back, that would have been one thing... but you didn't. You leapt forward. You inserted yourself between her and I, and it nearly killed you. Why? After everything I've done to you... Everything I forced on you... Why would you still save _me?_ "

Raine closed her eyes, biting her lower lip as the question fell like a lash, cutting through shields she had spent long moons putting up about herself in defence against the hurt. His rejection, his anger, his derision... All of it had cut much more deeply than any dagger ever could have. To feel steel in her back had been nothing compared to how much she had wanted to break down and cry after he had tormented her over the death of her father. But still, she had clung to him. Clung to a foolhardy belief that he could and would one day return to being the man she knew he was. Now, knowing he was turning in that direction, knowing it was her influence, and having him demand to understand the reason she had stood by him, when anyone with a lick of sense would have left him to die... How could she answer? What words could she possibly say to explain? She was at a loss, just as much as he was, and she hated herself for knowing the words, but not being able to say them.

The silence stretched between them, and Dimitri closed his eye as he turned his head, accepting that he would get no answer... and accepting that he had no right to one, no matter how he felt. If she wished to keep her secrets... He had no choice but to respect her wishes. It did not matter how it made him feel. All the outrage on her behalf had done nothing but make her shrink back and away from him, and it gutted him to see it. Three weeks had done nothing to change him. He was still as much of a beast as he had been before she had risked everything to save him... and he wondered bitterly if it was still a sin for him to wish for death. Anything would be preferable to this. To her sitting on the edge of her bed, small, shivering, and scared because he demanded answers from her that she simply did not want to give.

The anger gave way to shame, cold and quiet and heavy, and he forced his hands to unclench and his tense body to relax. It was not what he had hoped for, what he had wished for... but he knew he hadn't deserved any sort of happy ending. This was what had become of them, because of him, and he would take full responsibility for it. It was all he could do now. Salvaging whatever there was left was impossible... and he would come to terms with that, and mourn for it, alone. She had been dragged through enough. He would not be a thorn in her side any longer. He had done enough damage... He had made enough mistakes, and she had paid the price too many times for them. He turned for the door, weighted and cold, and he spoke quietly, his voice ragged, exhausted, as he explained, "I came tonight with the intent of trying... to make amends to you. But I realize that time has long since come and gone. I won't beg for your forgiveness. I'm well beyond it, and I know this. From tomorrow forward... Just treat me as you would any other soldier. I will follow your orders. I will do as you ask... and I will keep my distance from you, as much as I can until this war is over. You'll see no more of me. I can give you that much in apology for all I've put you through until now."

"Wait a moment, you can't-" Raine stood abruptly at the words that cut through the veil of fright, only to bring about a whole new round of adrenaline that forced her into movement before she could think twice of it. That defeated, self-loathing tone had no hint of malice in it. It was simple truth that he had committed himself to, and the very idea that from tomorrow forward, he would simply lose himself in the crowd of the many faces of soldiers she led... She shook her head savagely from side to side. What would have been the damned point of doing anything at all, if this was how it was to end? Her body moved without her input, refusing to permit it, refusing to permit him to cut himself away, and before she could think twice of it, she was at his side, grasping at his arm and dragging him back about to face her. He looked to her in surprise, unsure and confused, but she didn't care. Fear was moving her again before better thought could control her body, and it demanded she show what she couldn't say. If her lips wouldn't use words... There were other ways to get what she needed to be said out into the open.

Dimitri jerked as she pulled roughly at the front of his cloak, and he wondered just how ill she was if she could manage enough strength to manhandle him so easily, but any and all thoughts fled his head like a wyvern free of its saddle as she yanked his head down and covered his mouth with her own. His feet grew roots as his entire body froze in stone, and for a moment, he wondered if he had somehow managed to land himself into a dream. It couldn't be real. Not after everything. It was another bout of fantasy, spurred by too-long denied affection and lust, and he was forgetting the cruelty of reality. Nothing else made sense. Those warm lips on his weren't real. Neither were the slim, soft arms that curled themselves around his neck, pulling him closer, urging him to answer. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

The fresh, clean scent of a clear spring rain filled his head, and her skin was warm as her fingers brushed along the nape of his neck. She was soft, impossibly soft as she pressed herself flush into his chest, and that combined with the rest of it simply chased better sense clear from his head. He had always, without fail, been at the mercy of his dreams, and if this was to prove to be one, he would not shake it away. He couldn't. He reached in tandem, arms curling slowly, carefully about her to pull her closer as his lips moved gently against hers in assent. If this was what she wanted of him... She could have it. She could have all of him, in any form she wished, if it would give her peace, or happiness. Even if it was fleeting, even if she would leave him cold and alone when she realized her error, it didn't matter. Anything was a fair price to pay, even if it was just to indulge her a momentary wish.

A soft, quiet murmur of pleasure followed his answer, and those hands of hers turned clinging, urging, as she melted against the front of his chest. His body responded instinctively, one arm tightening about her hips as the other lifted, his hand lightly, gently, tracing the contour of her spine. His fingers brushed gently through the fabric, sliding errantly and thoughtlessly to the side, and he heard her inhale sharply before her body shuddered at the unintentional friction of her scar rubbing against the thick, scratchy fabric of her shirt. He stopped almost immediately, his own breath catching as he felt her momentarily freeze, and his voice was ragged as he whispered roughly against her panting mouth, "Did I hurt you...?"

"It's just a little sensitive..." Raine admitted breathlessly, but her body ached far more than just her shoulder as she leaned against the front of him for support. Her legs felt weak, and her head was light. Every touch sent a spark of electricity coursing through her body, making her skin bloom with foreign heat that was all too quickly making her dizzy, and she wondered why she felt so sensitive. She was used to pain, used to discomfort, but physical pleasure was new, and she was far too easily persuaded by it. Just a simple moment of kissing and a stroke along her spine already had her weak and breathless, and she wondered if it was because it was so new, or because it was him that made her so easily trapped. Her fingers curled about the front of his cloak to keep him where he was as she sensed his intent to pull away, and she brushed her lips longingly against the corner of his mouth when she murmured, "Don't stop yet..."

For a moment, Dimitri considered obeying, and every inch of him ached to ignore better sense and act just as she wanted him to do. Another half of him however resisted viciously, reminded of the fact that he had no come here with any intention but speaking to her, and this was well over the line of what anyone would ever deem acceptable. It didn't matter that she was melting. It didn't matter that he wanted her beyond all reason. Someone had to cling to their better sense, and he forced himself to withdraw, if only slightly. She tried to follow, murmuring unhappily, but he carefully lifted his arm, reaching to cup her cheek and hold it to keep the distance before he spoke in a voice made ragged from effort, "Wait... Just for a moment... Wait."

"Do you not want me?"

The plaintive question cut like a knife, and he groaned as his arms buckled automatically about her to pull her in close for a tight, reassuring embrace. He had no idea where she came up with such wild thoughts, especially considering how quickly he had forgotten his main goal of escape only to be tethered entirely to the ground the moment she had kissed him. The mere idea of turning her away... He'd sooner die. But he fought for better sense, for control, if only for a few more moments as he squeezed her close and whispered against the top of her head, "Don't be daft... As if I could manage to resist you, if you meant to take me... Of course I want you. But that isn't why I'm asking you to wait... I just... I need to hear you say the words. I can't... Not in good faith... I can't touch you again if you don't say the words. You can understand why, can't you...? I need to hear you say it... I need to know that for once... You're acting because you want to, and not because you feel you must."

Raine closed her eyes as she rested her forehead against his chest, allowing his words, his concerns, to begin to soothe that myriad of hurts that had been slowly but surely strangling her over the past several moons. It wasn't enough, not yet, but it was a start, and it was a start she had not thought she would be lucky enough to get. She let out a sigh as she stood quiet and secure in those firm, strong arms of his, and she was absently aware that for the first time in quite some time, perhaps longer than she could remember... She felt almost at peace. Almost. His request was not unfair, and it made more than enough sense that he asked it considering where they had been before and where he was now trying to go... but... He didn't know what he was asking for. Not wholly.

Gently, Raine pushed him away, though her hands were careful in making sure he understood it was not a rejection, but merely a silent request for room. He gave it to her without question even though his brow furrowed slightly, watching her with close, careful concern. She turned a little, back towards her bed, and she took his hand in her own before leading him there to sit with her. He followed, wordless and obedient, and she was both glad for his patience, as well as aching for his kindness. He didn't yet know... and she couldn't give him what he wanted without divulging more.

She reached with her free hand, sliding it underneath her pillow to find the tattered, worn book she had thought she had lost when she gone missing those five years prior. Warin had returned it to her, explaining he had come back to the monastery long after the Empire had abandoned it to find if it had survived the raiding and ruin, and he had kept it on him ever since. The diary had seen better days, but it was still intact, and her brother had refused to keep it when she had returned to all of them. He reasoned it belonged to her, and after a small argument, she had taken it back into her custody. Now, she pulled it out and into her lap, her fingers brushing gently across its cracked spine before she asked Dimitri quietly, "Do you know what this is?"

"Your father's diary... I remember you reading it in his office, shortly after..." Dimitri answered just as quietly, and the hand that was holding his tightened in search of comfort that he was ready and glad to give. She didn't look up, but rather just stared down sadly at the scratched leather casing, and he ached to see the sorrow and the grief in her eyes. She had reminded him on the bridge that she had only lost him several moons ago, not five years as it had been for everyone else, and he could see now just how fresh that loss truly was. It made him wonder, wonder of things he knew he could not yet ask when that grief was still so near, but he held her hand all the same when he asked instead of more gentler topics, "You kept it all this time? It survived the fall of the monastery?"

"Warin went back for it. After the Empire had their fill of destroying the monastery... He went back and combed through the ruins. I was dead and gone to him, so he wasn't there for me, but he knew I didn't keep it on me in battle. I was too afraid to have it ruined. He went searching and found it in my quarters. He kept it with him during his exile... and he gave it back to me when we reunited here." Raine explained with a small, sad smile, and still she wondered at her brother's heart, and his idiocy. Of course he would have turned back for something as simple as their father's journal, risking his neck for something he didn't truly need... but she knew better than to truly judge him. He had been in mourning then, too. And their father's journal was the last thing, the only thing, he had to remember both Jeralt and her by in those cruel years. "I've read it... so many times since it was left to me... and I learned quite a lot. Not just about my father, but about my mother, about the church... and also about myself. Father kept many secrets, and he had good reason to keep them... But I promised myself that if I... If I were to ever be... close... to someone... I wouldn't keep those secrets to myself. It wouldn't be right of me to do."

Dimitri wasn't sure how to reply to that, and he looked slowly from the journal in her lap, and to the quiet, sombre look on her face. Her words concerned him, but likely not in the way she was thinking. He turned his hand over underneath hers, his fingers reaching to cover her smaller one in his before he delivered a calm, tight squeeze. He hadn't had the chance to know the former knight-captain in the way he would have liked to. But what little he did know... He had always liked, and had always admired. Jeralt was a strong man, devout to his family and to his men, both in his mercenary troupe and under his command as knight-captain, but there had never been a doubt that all he did, all he had ever done, had always been for his children. Even if it had extended to keeping secrets... Dimitri began slowly, quietly as he watched Raine bite her lower lip as she struggled with her thoughts, "Professor..."

"Raine." The correction came swiftly, but with incredible gentleness, and Dimitri felt a heat surge both north and south from his stomach as those bewitching seafoam-green eyes pierced him through like a lance. Her voice was tender, as was the way her fingers were brushing against his as they let their hands remain tightly clasped. He heard himself swallow audibly, unable to reply, and her smile was half parts affectionate, half catlike in amusement as she explained almost pertly, "If you and I are to be as I'd like us to be... You can't call me by anything else but my name. I know it might be an adjustment, but... That _is_ one thing I won't be budging on. Anything else can be open to negotiation but that."

"Gods, but you're a temptress..." Dimitri almost growled, but with effort, great effort, he forced himself to remain seated and relaxed next to her. Hearing her say such things aloud, so boldly and honestly... It took every ounce of self-control he had not to push her flat onto the bed and forget all else. Did she _know_ what weight her words had? If she did, she was torturing him, and enjoying every last moment of it. If she wasn't... Then she was going to learn very quickly just how easily he could be wrapped about her little finger. Already he was a willing slave... If she said much more, he would soon be a willing, and happy one. He swallowed that knot in his throat down, hoping beyond hope his more... physical reactions were hidden by his trousers and his cloak, but it didn't stop his voice from remaining husky when he answered her, "As you wish... Raine."

Raine took a moment as a delicious shiver curled its way lazily up her spine at the sound of her given name leaving his lips, and she, too, had to remind herself that any and all of her wants had to remain second to the matter at hand. But she _did_ want him, and that fact was not in dispute for either of them now. She looked back down to the journal in her lap, hoping that the burning in her face would subside soon enough, as she gathered herself before beginning quietly, slowly, "It's... a long story, so I'll attempt to keep it brief for you, but... I think the context is just as important as the facts I want you to know... And, before you ask... Father entrusted this to me, so what I share, and who I share it with is a choice _I_ get to make. I know he wouldn't be angry with me for it."

"If that's what you wish, I won't argue. You knew your father better than I... but... If I might ask one question...?" Dimitri hated to interrupt her, especially when he saw how difficult it already was just to be speaking of her father, let alone the myriad of things he may have written in his diary... but he could not help it. She was putting so much importance of reading him into these secrets that her family had kept, and for the life of him, he couldn't quite understand why. He had already known and accepted that the Eisner family simply had their reasons to have lived as they did, and he had long ago stopped questioning it. It was not his right to know, nor was it his business. Whatever small details Warin had seen fit to share with him then, when he had been young and more trustworthy, had been his to divulge, and they had never been asked for. He couldn't lie, and say that her actions now weren't discomforting. "Why are you so intent... on telling me this now?"

"You want me to say words to you that... I just can't say unless you know these things about me. About my family. I know that doesn't make sense yet, but... It's for my own peace of mind." Raine answered honestly, but she shifted uncomfortably next to him, all the same. They weren't secrets she kept gladly. They weren't secrets she _wanted_ to share with anyone, either. But he had asked her to give him honesty, to give him reassurance, but she simply could not, unless she gave him the whole truth first. And... She smiled sadly, feeling that phantom pain again somewhere deep within as the rest of her body ached to compensate for what could not work before she added in a murmur, "And... It's in case you choose to reject me, once you know the truth. I won't... bind you to me in any sort of way... without you knowing everything first. Because in the end, once you know everything... You very well may wish to. And if you do, I won't blame you. But... I promised these secrets... deserved to be told _before_ something happened."

Dimitri bristled unconsciously, hating that sad look on her face, and moreover, the way she spoke so quietly, so assuredly of the idea that he could wish to reject her on the basis of her family's secrets. If anyone was in the place, and had the right to do the rejecting, it was her. He knew full well who he was and what he had done, and still she clung to his hand like a lifeline. He would abide by any of her wishes, to stay or to go, but he couldn't fathom a situation where he would simply leave unless she ordered it of him. He knew it was selfish. He didn't deserve her, nor the happiness or the peace she could give him... but for _her_ wants, he would do anything. To hear her say he'd leave... He shook his head slowly, his hand tightening about hers as he told her quietly, intensely, "Nothing you could say to me, barring an order to go, would be capable of making even think of leaving you. Until the time comes when you've had enough of me and want me gone... I intend to be your shadow, your sword, and your shield."

"I appreciate that, Dimitri... but you shouldn't make promises like that, when you don't know everything." Raine shook her head even if the comfort was warming, and idle, but experienced fingers flipped the diary in her lap open, rustling through the pages with ease to find the entry she wanted, and needed, to begin with. She didn't need to look up to see his expression, dark, intent, and certain, and while a small, selfish part of her was honestly happy to see that... She knew it wasn't fair of her to take it from him. He had the right to know everything, if he truly was willing to commit to her as she wanted to commit to him. And she would keep no secrets from him. "I'll tell you, and once I'm finished... You can make a choice of your own, and I won't hold anything against you. I do this because if I were you... I'd want to know. I can't say what I would do, but... I would want to know. Is that fair enough?"

"If that's how you wish for things... Then I will not argue." Dimitri eventually allowed the words to pass his lips, but the tasted incredibly bitter on his tongue as he spoke them. He still did not understand her fatalism, her quiet acceptance of him leaving her if he so chose, but... He had been in enough battles by now, and had been cowed enough, to know this was a fight he could not win. More than anything, he wanted to respect her wishes, to ensure she knew he was putting her desires and needs before his own. It was high time that someone beyond her brother started doing so, and even if he was too late... He would still do all he could, from her side, or the shadows.

"All right... Then, let's begin here, with this entry... " Raine ducked her head as her fingers gently ran over the long-dried ink and the crinkled parchment paper her father had written upon. Still, after so many long years of it being buried by her father, then hidden under rubble, and carried about in her brother's rucksack as he wandered to and fro across the continent, it still held up as well as any of the texts she could find the library of the monastery. She hoped to keep it like that, regardless of the impossibility of the task. It was all she had of him, after all... and she did not want to lose it twice. She began quietly, softly, knowing Dimitri was close to enough to hear, and feeling that familiar ache of bittersweet pain as her voice blended with the memory of her father's in her quiet room, "'Day 20, of the Horsebow Moon. All is cloudy. I can't believe she's dead.'..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Don't worry, this is only part of the "reconciliation" bits between Raine and Dimitri! I'm not cutting anything out, especially any fun, juicy bits, but this chapter has run on long, and I don't really do thirteen-pagers anymore seeing as it's both physically painful on me, and usually kind of boring for my readers. I'm keeping things relatively smooth and to the point, and the upcoming part, of more "truths" coming to light between a relatively calmer Raine and Dimitri, is incredibly important to focus on. It deserves its own chapter, and so it will have one. Unfortunately, it does mean a longer pause on the "action" bits, as well as the central plot of AM, but I promise there's still plenty of that to be had. After all, AM is no longer AM. At least, not in this iteration that I'm writing!
> 
> It's kind of unfortunate, but also understandable, that Jeralt's diary really never got any more play than it did in the game on Byleth's discovery of it. While it gives giant hints for later doings in certain playthroughs (Silver Snow), it's not really used much as a medium to explore Byleth as a character, nor does it ever really get "shared" with through the other lords, or love interests (barring Claude, who harasses you into a non-standard, But Thou Must! gameplay bullshit of allowing him to take it from you) but even with that, not much is ever said or done about the things Jeralt writes about. There's tidbits remarking on his relationship with his wife, but little precious else is ever revealed or talked about, which, to me, is a huge waste. A paralogue could have easily been written about it, perhaps finding your mother's favourite flowers in a distant area and your class willingly taking up the search with you to help alleviate your grief, etc etc... But, alas.
> 
> Regardless, to me, and to Raine, I find it very important to continue to reflect on Jeralt, as well as the secrets that were kept, the reasons those secrets were kept, and the backstory, (however incomplete it might be at the time) that is all Raine knows of her family, and her own existence. While the whole truth will eventually come out, I am not dangling Raine/Dimitri in front of myself and everyone else until that point in the story. It's simply unfair, and not quite realistic considering all things. But that's just me, who thoroughly enjoyed being married in-game in Awakening/Fates, and feeling the stakes rising because of "getting out alive together" rather than, "if we both survive, we can enjoy a good future". The concept of grabbing happiness, however small and however brief while you can in the midst of wartime is one I wholeheartedly believe in, and I really don't think these kids didn't have similar ideas of their own.
> 
> Anyway, that's it for me for the moment, as I've been sick, and am having a hard time continuing to look at computer screens for extended periods of times. Hopefully it all passes soon enough, so I can get on with things. Believe it or not, I am actually really looking forward to Fhirdiad, as well as Arianrhod quickly after, so I want to keep bulldozing along! Thanks as always for continuing to read, and please drop me a review if you feel the need. Have a good one, until the next time!
> 
> Mood: Sick.
> 
> Listening To: "Endless War" - Within Temptation
> 
> ~ Sky


	15. Freedom and Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Angst. (M)
> 
> Characters: Raine, Dimitri.
> 
> Summary: It was dangerous, laying everything out on the line, but it was the right thing to do, regardless of how utterly terrifying it was. She had made the promise that no one would suffer for her secrets, no one would be betrayed by finding out only after it was too late, and she was ready, willing, and safe in the knowledge that he could leave, and she would watch him go if and when he chose to reject her. It was only right. It was only fair. No one deserved to think they could love her, when she wasn't even human.

**Harpstring Moon**

**Dormitories (Professor's Quarters)**

**Midnight**

Raine wasn't entirely sure how long she read aloud from her father's journal, telling Dimitri of all her father had known and suspected in her early years, and the things he had discovered and worried over in tandem. Dimitri, for his credit, sat silent and unmoving throughout it all, drinking in her words with a slightly narrowed eye and a relatively quiet expression that gave away nothing. It felt like ages had passed by the time Raine permitted herself to close the journal, reaching the end of what she felt was pertinent to share from her father's point of view, and her muscles ached with tension she desperately needed to release from sitting so still next to the taller blond man the entire time as she read.

Slowly, she slid her hand free from underneath his, wondering at the warmth and comfort he had given to her through such a simple touch, and she carefully pushed herself to her feet. He didn't follow her as she stepped away from him and towards the back of her room, and she glanced at herself absently in the corner of her mirror, hating the seafoam-coloured eyes that stared back at her when she glimpsed her reflection. So much change... All unasked for. It made her quiver with self-loathing and disgust, and instinctively her arms wrapped about herself as as she took in a breath and continued, now completely on her own, "After Father passed... After what happened in the Sealed Forest... Things began to fall together more cleanly. Warin and I spoke for a very long time, trying to wring the truth out of what small details we knew, and there was so little to go on... But, after everything, I've come to several conclusions that I feel relatively safe in declaring fact."

"And those things are?"

Hearing his steady voice should have brought her comfort, but she felt nothing but unease as she heard him rising from the bed to stand with her. He didn't approach, and she was grateful for that as she hugged herself tighter about the waist protectively. She turned her eyes to the floor, not willing to risk catching a glimpse of his expression after everything she had told him. He had to know already what she was coming to, he had to understand what she was now... but she understood saying it herself was what she had to do. She took in another deep breath, wishing it would calm her nerves when she only felt more and more tightly coiled, tightly wrapped, as she began shakily, "The first is that for some reason, Rhea is is why I am as I am. She's laid this path before me as if she knew exactly how it would happen... and I want to know why, and how she did it. The second... is that my Crest is unnatural, and not a product of my bloodline. Perhaps my body and the Crest are correlated somehow. I can't say, but I do know that however I came to have it, it was not something as simple as being born with it. And third... Taking both the first and second facts into consideration, as well as my lack of a heartbeat, my powers, my "miracles", as some might call them... I am not actually truly alive. I... I am not human."

"You aren't human?" Dimitri repeated the words slowly, eye narrowing as he watched Raine duck her head down, tightening her hold on herself as if she was desperately attempting to keep herself together somehow. He had heard the tremble in her voice, and he could see her body quivering, though why, he was not sure. It was much to take in, even more to believe, but to this point, he had not doubted her. Hearing it all in Jeralt's own words had only cemented the facts that the Eisner family had faced much tragedy, far too soon in their young lives, and that tragedy, and the suspicion that the Church had played a hand in it all, had been the reason for their secrecy, and their tightly knit bond. It all made perfect sense, and Warin's own words, as well as what he himself had seen, gave him more than enough reason to believe her. This, however... This did not sit right with him, and he was not afraid to say so in a firm, cutting voice, "I don't believe that for a moment."

"You don't? After all you've heard?" Raine demanded, and she turned on her heel, tilting her head back to return the glare Dimitri was now giving her. She could read the belief in his eye, that he had taken her entire story to heart and thought it truth, but calling herself inhuman seemed to be the one thing he would not call a fact. It was too much like her brother's declaration, too accepting without thinking things through, and though she wished it could be comforting, all she felt was a sense of indignation. Why did they continue to avert their eyes to the facts? To make her feel better? It made no sense, and it did her no comfort, and she let that show as she rounded on him, her voice sharp and accusatory, "Someone walking about without a heartbeat, with the powers of a Goddess, is still somehow human to you? I can wield a weapon no one should be able to wield. A Relic that has no Crest Stone. I've died, and somehow lived to tell the tale without a single trace of the wounds that killed me. I remember what happened before I lost those five years. I didn't vanish into the ether... I died that day at Garreg Mach, and still, you say I'm human? No human can do these things. I am _not_ human."

"Then are those tears on your cheeks a lie?"

The question cut her abruptly to the quick, making her take pause as she raised a hand to realize she had indeed began to cry without realizing it in her angry tirade. Her body was aching with emotion, hate, anger, hurt, grief, self-loathing, and it was desperate for an outlet that her still heart simply could not provide. She brushed her hand angrily against her eyes, scraping away the tears, only to find her wrists caught in Dimitri's gentle hold before she could finish the job. He stopped her before she could speak, his hands firm, yet still incredibly careful as they held her wrists when he spoke in a similar, tender, tone, "And what of your smile, that day after we rescued Flayn from the Death Knight? Or the laughter we shared, during the celebratory feast with the Black Eagles and Golden Deer, once we finished with the match in Grondor? And when you mourned your father, both then, and now... Were all of those emotions a lie? Can you feel those things you've showed me, time and time again? Because if you can... Then you _are_ human."

Raine turned her head away, biting her cheek as she wished she could tell him he as wrong, but the firmness in his voice was as strong as the hardest steel. He believed every word he spoke, and nothing she said, no matter how plaintively she said it, would ever make him think otherwise. She tugged vainly, trying to pull away from his hold to at least escape the humiliation of standing in tears in front of him, but he didn't release her. Rather, he settled one of his larger hands over her wrists, grasping them both easily before he raised his own to brush his thumb carefully over her cheek for her. She didn't move, holding her breath as he slowly, tenderly wiped away the tears as they came, and she heard him chuckle quietly to himself before he spoke again, stepping forward to come closer as he asked further, "And now you're red again because of my touch... Is that also a lie? You feel things, Raine. You may have never been the best at expressing that, but you have always had those emotions in you. They were simply buried, and needed aid in coming to the surface. And as for your powers, and your lack of a heartbeat, and your Relic... Even the mystery of your lost five years... I care nothing for any of those things. You still bleed. You still breathe, eat, laugh and cry, just as anyone else does. That makes you human to me."

Strong, unyielding arms tugged her forward, and Raine went willingly as a sob choked in her throat despite her best efforts to stymie it. There was quiet acceptance in every single one of his words, gentle truth and firm belief saturating his tone until it, too, joined the ache that was her entire body, and the arms that wrapped her up in a firm embrace were a stinging but welcome balm. He cradled her close to his chest, nuzzling the top of her hair as he squeezed her waist tenderly, and his voice was rough, ragged with pain for her as he felt her tears falling into the front of his tunic, "Whatever it was Rhea did to you may have changed you... but it did not make you a monster... and moreover, even if it did... I can't say with honest truth that it would bother me. I know it selfish to say, but... You exist, here and now, as you are because of her influence. And that simple fact... You, existing... saved me more times than I can count. Even if the worst of your fears ever came to be true, even if I'm proven a liar and you are something more than human, it won't matter to me. Because you still are you... and you still are the woman who guided me, protected me, and saved me, over and over again. My beloved professor... and my reason for living."

Dimitri felt her collapse into his arms, her breath shaking with pained, broken sobs, and he steadied her easily. Slowly, carefully, he guided her back to her bed, sitting down with her and gathering her into his arms so she could cry her fill into his chest. She clung to him like a lifeline, fingers digging into his cloak to keep him near, and he grit his teeth as he fought with his emotions. There was so much to feel, so much to process, and then there was her... Battered, bruised and broken by all she had been holding close in terror of being rejected should the truth ever escape her lips.

His heart burnt with anger on her behalf, and he understood well now why Warin held such open contempt for the Archbishop and the church. If it was true, that Rhea had somehow had a hand in their mother's death, and in Raine's condition... He would join in turning his weapon towards the Church of Seiros in vengeance should their paths turn in such a direction. To see Raine reduced to this, a mess of tears and fear like a lost child, questioning her humanity, her right to exist... No. It was unforgivable, and he would more than happily stand shoulder to shoulder with her brother when the time came to wrench answers, wrench the truth, out of Rhea's grasp when she was found and rescued. It was not permitted. No one had a right to cause such harm, to instil such fear in anyone... but especially not in _her_.

The guilt returned again, tempered with sympathy and sadness as he cradled her close in his lap, nuzzling her hair and allowing her to cry. Every single sob was a swordstroke, but he knew she did not need comforting words. She simply needed a chance to release it, to release everything, in safety and in privacy. For too long she had been holding herself in, from herself, her comrades, her brother, and now that the dam had burst, he doubted it would be quick to ebb. But that was not a concern for him. He could wait a lifetime, sitting silently and holding her tightly, if it would give her even a modicum of peace and relief. It was the very least he could do, when she had broken that dam because of him, for him, in some misguided, twisted belief that he _had_ to know all because he cared for her.

Dimitri still did not understand why she feared his rejection, but he supposed he never would be able to comprehend it. Turning her away was impossible. To be told to leave was one thing, a thing he would do readily and willingly, but to go of his own accord now... It could not be done. No matter what she told him, no matter what she did, he would never leave. He couldn't. He was as selfish as she was, needing her, craving her, like a starving man only inches away from sustenance after so long in agonizing hunger. If it was a test, to see if he would flee, he supposed he had passed it... though he knew it wasn't. It was last ditch attempt to save him, save him from what he didn't know, but he knew her soul well enough to guess that much. She wanted him to know what she thought of herself, what she believed to be the truth, if only to spare him from being tied down to a "monster".

The thought made him tighten his hold, though he was weary as he did so lest he apply too much strength as the anger returned with a vengeance. A monster. Inhuman. Hearing such words falling from her lips... Applying such things to someone like her... It was impossible. He could understand her fear, being different was indeed reason to be wary and uncomfortable and even frightened, but it was no reason to call herself inhuman. There was an explanation for why she was as she was, he was confident in that... and even if the explanation was unsavoury, he had already decided it didn't matter. No monster saved lives simply because it was the right thing to do. No monster loved freely, fought to defend their comrades, and shed blood for the things they loved. Humans did those things. A heartbeat wasn't necessary to make her human. Her emotions, her actions, her ideals... Those were enough. They were more than enough.

He held her until her sobs tapered off, until her breathing steadied, and waited patiently as she began to reassemble herself in his arms. He did not mind the wait, and only continued to hold her close, willing to release at once should she ask, but content to let her know he had no intentions of doing so until that moment came. She sniffled once or twice, raising her hands to brush away the remnants of moisture in her eyes, and after what felt like an eternity, she finally looked up at him sheepishly. Colour had returned to her face, pinking it with embarrassment and shame, and her eyes wouldn't lift entirely to his face as she began quietly, her voice still somewhat pinched from her outburst, "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to break down like that..."

"I don't mind." Dimitri answered honestly, and he watched as the shade of pink in her face turned to a deeper red in response. It brought a faint smile to his face, and he reached carefully, his thumb brushing against her cheekbone before reaching to cup her face. She leaned into his caress almost immediately, turning her face so her lips touched his wrist, and he wiped away the last traces of her tears with his thumb before he continued quietly, "You've nothing to apologize for... It was long overdue. I'm only grateful I was here to help you."

Raine reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly as she nuzzled into his palm and allowed a long, shaky breath to finally leave her. It all felt... strangely soothing. The weights she had been carrying, one by one, were slipping off of her shoulders and reminding her of what it felt like to stand tall and unburdened. Her chest still ached and her eyes still smarted, but... Sitting quietly in her quarters, curled up in his lap and feeling the warmth of his skin on hers made everything else going on outside seem small and distant. She wouldn't have dared try to imagine such a thing several moons ago, and she still was struggling to believe it was real now. But his skin was real, the heavy scent of sandalwood and steel filled her head and made her thoughts scatter, and she sighed again as she closed her eyes and held his hand more firmly to her face, "I love you."

Dimitri allowed the words to go through him as keenly as a blade, and he held his breath for a moment as he wondered if the dream would finally shatter. It usually always did here, when she spoke those words to him, and yet... Nothing changed. He still sat with her cradled in his arms, feeling her skin on his and relishing in every moment of it, and he wondered what luck he had, and how undeserving he was of it as his left arm squeezed just a little more firmly about her waist. He needed to remind himself that she was real, that when he woke again on the morrow, that it wouldn't slip through his fingers like all of the other dreams and nightmares had before.

Gently, Dimitri pulled her closer, and was silently glad when she came without complaint or struggle. Rather, she seemed eager to close the distance, sitting up so she could properly move into a better-fitting position between his knees. Her arms wrapped about his torso, barely able to close around the width of him, but she didn't care as she buried her face in his neck. For his part, he had no difficulty at all in enclosing her in his embrace, ducking his head against her hair to return her sigh, quiet, relaxed and comforted as they sat in silence together for a few long moments. He wanted to feel her, wanted to savour the sensation of her resting safe and secure in his arms, and her every little breath on his skin was a sinful little delight he wanted to never stop.

It was odd comfort, but comfort she knew she needed all the same as Raine allowed for the silence to stretch out between them. It had been like this before, she remembered. Times after long sparring sessions, or those quiet, frank discussions that kept them long past classroom hours when they would just simply sit together, side by side, and allow a calm quiet to fill the room, or the arena long after they should have parted. She had missed those days. Missed those times, when even at her worst and most insecure, he was there to make her smile, to help her forget, even though she had known he was suffering with demons of his own. Though they had never allowed themselves to forget their places, a professor and a student, Raine knew better now than to deny what she had felt for him, and how much she had come to rely on his steady presence. She had missed him, and missed him sorely. _This_ was the Dimitri she had known and loved, and realizing he had returned to her, because of her... She buried her face further against his skin to hide the renewed stinging in her eyes. 'Gods, I'm a fool...'

"Raine?"

His quiet, concerned call of her name was more than enough to dismiss any notions of hiding and pretending, and she wondered if she had erred in pressing the issue that he could no longer call her "professor". The sound of her given name on his tongue did things to her body and mind that it truly shouldn't, and even now, she felt an unbidden shiver sent goosebumps erupting across her skin in a foreign, but very pleasant reaction she had no control over. She shook her head a little to ward off his worry, but she didn't let him go as she murmured into his neck, "I'm just... trying to take all of this in... I missed you. The _real_ you... I didn't realize how much until now. I did my best to stand on my own two feet, but really, all those years ago, I was always leaning on you for support. Having you beside me became something I took for granted... Being unable to be near you all these moons, despite my best efforts... It was... the hardest thing I've had to do. I worried over you so much... This feels unreal. Good, and comforting, and everything I could ever ask for, but... still unreal."

"I can say the same... That it feels like I'm dreaming." Dimitri agreed with a slow nod, and he soothingly ran his hand down her hair and back, rubbing in slow, small circles as he felt the warm wetness of a stray tear trickle down his throat. It made him ache, hearing her speak openly and honestly of how hard it had been on her all these moons, but he knew he had to accept it. He had been nothing short of a monster to her, and he still had no idea why she had clung so hard to him, and for so long. It had saved him, he knew it had, but he still had difficulty understanding the why, even if she had clearly said so now. He didn't deserve it. Didn't deserve her. And he pressed a slow, careful kiss to the top of her head before admitting quietly, "But you... You know that... what I was... that is also me. Saying that how I am now is the "real" me... That's an easy excuse for me to take advantage of wriggling away from my behaviour. I was a beast. I still am. I may be trying to divert my course, but it doesn't change what brought me here... and as sorry as I am for all of it, every last moment... I need to take claim over it, just as much."

"You're going to continue to punish yourself for this for a long time, aren't you?" The question didn't need an answer, as Raine could see it written clearly all across his face when she pulled back just enough to get a good look at him. The regret was honest and raw, as was the mournful note in his voice, and she wished she could heal him as easily as magic had healed her. But that was beyond her grasp, and she knew time was the only tonic he had. Time, and support, which thankfully she could give, even if he would be resistant to it at first. Still, she was stubborn, and she reached to touch his face as she mused quietly, "If that's how you want it to be, that's all right, I guess... but I won't be leaving you, no matter what it is you say of yourself. Nor will I be sending you away. I can't. I need you too much to be without you again. So long as this path is the one you intend to stay on... I'll walk beside you for the rest of my life."

"This _is_ the path I wish to walk... and I appreciate your willingness to share it with me." Dimitri answered honestly, and he took her hand in his to bring it to his mouth for a gentle kiss to her fingers. It still felt small and frail in his own, but it was no longer freezing to the touch, and he relished in that fact as he brought it between his own to hold it tightly. His thumbs rubbed circles across her knuckles, appreciating the smooth warmth of her pale skin, and he was loathe to let go for any reason... Though he was reminded, it wasn't his hand to hold, regardless of what she said, or how many times she said it. "Still, I... It seems as if I'm asking for all from you, and having so little to give in return. I still haven't proven myself... I still need to do so much more. Taking back Fhirdiad is only the first step of many... Will it be enough? Will ending this war be enough...? I doubt it will be. There will be so much more to do after... Though, I realize it's ridiculous of me to be complaining to you. You've thought of all of this already."

"That's giving me more credit than I'm due for... I've had to plan for multiple outcomes, that's simply how being in command works. I haven't thought of everything." Raine disagreed with a shake of her head and a rueful smile, but Dimitri merely looked at her with raised eyebrows as well as a crooked, almost boyish-looking smile in reproach. It brought heat flushing back into her cheeks, and unbidden she rubbed at her nose, turning her head away from him as she repeated firmly, "It's true! I had no idea that things at Grondor would go our way... That was a gamble I took, and it was only luck that pulled us through. Lorenz and Marianne could have been intercepted, or killed, long before they reached Derdriu, or any friendly ears... and Claude could very well have refused to hear our plea for a truce, and taken full advantage of us when we were at our weakest. And we still don't know how things will go once, and if, we manage to achieve true unity between the Kingdom and Alliance. There are still too many variables."

"There are indeed... but you shouldn't be thinking of such things right now." Dimitri cut her off gently before she could retreat too far into her thoughts and plans and schemes, and he squeezed her hand in tender reproach when she looked up at him with both confusion and a hint of embarrassment. He continued quietly, lowering his head to touch his nose to her own before muttering, "You've been overworking yourself... There's a reason you were put into sleep for so long. All of those burdens on your shoulders... You won't be carrying them alone any longer. Most of the weight you held was meant for me. I'll be relieving you of it, from today on. Though, that isn't to say I will not need you. Nothing could be farther from the truth... But I still intend to take up the role that was meant for me. Both in command, and, one day, as the king I was meant to be."

"You'll tire yourself out if you take on too many burdens too quickly... but I suppose I shouldn't be saying that in my state, should I?" Raine asked with another rueful smile, and unbidden, she leaned into Dimitri's chest as she allowed her body to relax. He was comfortable, far more comfortable than her pillows and blankets, and she sought instinctively and unthinkingly for him and the comfort he gave simply by being there. She was tired. She had been tired for moons on end... and she could still feel the lingering traces, in the fog in the corners of her mind, and the weakness in her limbs. "I'll be glad for the help... but I don't intend to let you do it all on your own, either. I may need a few more days of rest before I'm back to my usual self, but once I am, I will be joining you all at the head of the table as I once did."

"I know better than to argue, and I will also not lie and say your presence hasn't been missed. You're a strong voice, and one that all listen to... Amongst ourselves, we just fall into squabbles, like little schoolchildren. Even now, when our academy days are long behind us, you still are our professor, and we need you sorely to keep us all in line." Dimitri admitted with a trace of a chuckle, and he thought of the long, fruitless meetings he had held in the Knights' Hall, and how regardless of his attempts, rarely could he manage to exert authority as she could. So flawlessly she commanded their attention and obedience, even of her elders and supposed betters, and he shook his head as he mused, "Your brother has stepped up valiantly in your absence, and his level-headedness is much appreciated... Though, unfortunately, he frightens half of the lot of them, and angers the other half with his rough speaking. But no one doubts his experience, so his voice holds as much weight as yours does when he speaks... and it helps that he has most of the old guard, and your father's troops, firmly behind him. I must admit, sometimes I find it shocking that he was passed over as Knight-Captain."

Raine hid a smile and shook her head, knowing full well Warin's attitude and lack of loyalty to Rhea was exactly why he had been passed over for such a position, but she was glad still to know his voice was being respected in her absence. He _was_ a strong leader, to those who had known him previously, and those who had worked with him throughout his time in amongst the knights. His strength was almost without equal, his experience was vast, and his ability to keep a calm head, and sense incoming disaster made him a perfect candidate for leadership... but not underneath the yoke of the Church of Seiros. "He would have never accepted the position had it been offered. Alois is a stronger candidate by far compared to him. Besides, the ones who would have supported Warin would have loyalty only to him, not to the Knights of Seiros... Something I'm sure both Rhea and Seteth were well aware of. He frightens them because he won't be cowed into submission. Or rather, because he _can't_ be cowed. It's been like that for as long as we've been together. He cares only about people as they are as people... Nobility, Crests, stature, religion, or wealth... None of that matters to him, so he doesn't think of it when he looks at you. He sees only you, and he judges only that. I believe that Rhea was truly frightened of him... She had every right to be."

"Do you worry what will happen when Rhea is found?"

"If Warin will hurt her? No. He's not stupid, as much as he's angry... but he will be demanding the truth from her. As will I." Raine shook away the question with a flick of her wrist, though she well understood why Dimitri would ask it. It was a fair concern, after all she had told him and all he now knew, and she didn't blame him for being wary of her brother. Anyone else would be, and most already were out of sheer instinct. Still, she admitted with a bitter sigh as she ran a hand thoughtlessly through her hair, and then down to rest errantly on her chest, "She's hid too many secrets, for far too long... No more. We need her knowledge, and she has no authority with which to cow us now. When she's found, she will be answering our questions. What we do with that information... Well, that depends on what we're given, and how she gives it."

Dimitri was quiet, absorbing both her words and watching how her hand plucked idly at her shirt, directly over her heart. He wondered if she knew what she was doing or why, and it brought his curiosity, that ugly, burning, bitter curiosity rearing back to the surface. He believed her when she said her heart didn't beat, she had no reason to lie to him, and yet... It puzzled him how she still had a pulse, how she still could move, act, and react with her heart laying still inside of her chest. Was it as simple as the power of her Crest forcing her body into function? He didn't know, and he doubted he ever would. It was well beyond the scope of his understanding, and something far more into the reach of myths and ancient history. Still... He reached out again, gently settling his hand over hers before he began quietly, slowly, "Raine... If I might be so bold to ask...?"

"You want to feel for yourself, don't you?" Raine finished his question before he could ask it, and she felt an awkward and bitter smile curling at her lips despite herself. She turned her head so he wouldn't have to see her expression, and she wondered why she felt feverish... She had expected this. It was one thing for him to feel her pulse, but it was another entirely for him to feel her lack of a heartbeat for himself... and she owed him the chance to feel it so he understood exactly what it was that she was. Words alone were not enough. And she settled her hand on top of his, holding it down before she murmured softly, "I'll let you, but... Just, don't... stare, okay? It's... embarrassing enough as it is, having to show you, as necessary as I know it is. This will be the first time that... anyone put their hands on me like this."

"If you don't wish for me to touch you..."

"It's fine. Don't make me lose my nerve." Raine interrupted him brusquely, knowing her courage was rapidly dwindling and that she needed to act before she decided she didn't wish for this after all. She had prepared for it, showing proof, but it still made her body hot and her face red as she took his hand and guided it underneath her shirt. He held himself completely still, allowing for her to do all of the work to make it less awkward for her, and she both appreciated and hated it as she fussed for a moment, and then settled his hand under her breast and over her heart. She flattened his palm over her skin, pressing down to allow him to feel the nothingness he'd need to feel to confirm her words, and she held her breath despite herself to keep herself from bolting up from the bed. His hand was hot on her skin, large and callused and deliciously firm, and it made her ache wondering how it would feel to have him touching her elsewhere, with more strength and purpose.

Dimitri narrowed his eye, focussing all of his concentration into his hand as it lay across her bare chest to feel... absolutely nothing. She was sitting still as a statue, her cheeks burning crimson as she held her breath, and yet... Her heart didn't pound as his did inside of his chest. He could feel it thrumming in his ears, arousal spiking despite himself, and he swallowed down the knot in his throat in a desperate attempt to quell it. He wanted to focus only on the absence of her heartbeat, and yet... Her skin was soft, yielding underneath his fingertips and beckoning for more of his touch, and only the tightest of reigns he could manage stopped him from sliding his palm downwards to follow. But his control wasn't absolute, and he proved it as his head lowered against the back of her neck, and he whispered raggedly as he felt her momentarily tense, before relaxing with a ragged breath of her own, "You're still so _warm_... Have you always been...?"

"I don't... I don't know..." Raine admitted with a shiver as his breath scorched her throat, and unbidden her head tilted to the side to give him more room to nuzzle. He took it almost at once, his lips brushing longingly across her neck and collarbone, and she bit her lip to stop herself from hissing in surprise. His hand followed suit, fingertips tentatively dragging across her skin in a whisper of a caress to reach across her chest before clasping her opposite breast in his palm. She hissed as his callused skin dragged across her sensitive flesh, rubbing against her pert nipple and making her gasp aloud with a mixture of pleasure and shock. It was all foreign, all new, and yet it still felt so absurdly welcome and good. It made her forget her shyness, her awkwardness, and instead changed it all to a yearning hunger she knew, but hadn't ever embraced before.

"Raine... May I...?" It was a low, growled question as Dimitri's mouth dragged across her throat and to her ear, and his fingers grasped and groped, rolling that sensitive peak to hear her gasp again in pleasure. She was burning underneath his hands, her body quivering against his chest as she leaned back to further grant him access to her body. His trousers were painfully tight, his heart hammering in his ears as he ached for relief, relief and that harsh, unrelenting desire to satisfy all of those urges those dreams and nightmares had left him with ever since they had first begun to haunt him years ago. Still, he held himself back from taking more, fighting to keep the animal in control as his teeth grazed against her earlobe, "If you say no... I'll stop... I _can_ stop... if you don't wish for this..."

The promise made her shudder all the way to her very bones, and her head turned unbidden, lips searching... He rewarded her immediately despite his words, his mouth pressing down against hers with furious, desperate passion. His tongue plundered her gasping mouth, his right hand tightening its hold on her breast while his left reached up, tangling in her hair to tilt her head further back so he could deepen the kiss easily. She groaned deep in her throat, chest constricting as her fingers curled into his sleeve to ensure his hold on her chest as every inch of her throbbed in want. To ask him to stop now would almost be as painful as taking that dagger in the back again, and she whispered as they parted for a gasp of air, "No... Don't stop... I want this. I want _you_."

As if to prove it, Raine reached down of her own accord, pulling her shirt up and over her head before he could find a word to say in reply. Dimitri groaned at the sight of her bare skin, that eager, desperate look in her eye, and immediately he was crashing his mouth against hers again for a long, hungry kiss before she could properly turn about. It didn't matter. He didn't want to wait, either. His hands moved of their own will, reaching, grasping, searching, and she groaned and twisted in his arms, eagerly granting him access to wherever he wished and twitching and shivering each time his callused skin brushed new territory he was so hungry to claim. She wasn't entirely sure where this frenzy had come from, what had taken either of them over, but it didn't matter. Too much had been pent up between them. Want, longing, lust... She could call it whatever she wished. It still made them desperate, made them wild, and she was more than happy to throw better sense and thought to the wind.

"You, too... Take it off..." Her words were the only thing capable of penetrating that hazy fog in his brain, and Dimitri only hesitated for a moment before obeying. Taking his hands off of her was hell, robbing himself of that smooth, silken feel of her skin, and he clumsily, hastily pulled his tunic off and threw it thoughtlessly off of the cot. The spare moment gave him a chance to see her, bent forward in between his legs, shoulders heaving from her panting and giving him a quick, but long enough glimpse of her back that he hadn't taken pause to see before in his haste earlier that night.

She was scarred, though not nearly as badly as he was from her lifetime of warfare and mercenary work. The most prominent of her old wounds was her newest, the long, ragged mark over her shoulderblade and heart, which stood out in a dark, shiny maroon against the creamy tint of her skin. The others were small and almost easy to ignore in comparison, small nicks of missed hits, barely anything to note when he glanced down at himself. He was a ragged mess of scar tissue himself, with his armour's dents, nicks, and patching all covering up the wounds it had failed to protect him from. And that was before he counted the marks of the Tragedy of Duscur, the burns on his back and upper shoulders from the regicide he had only barely managed to survive as a boy.

His pause was too long, making Raine turn her head to glance at him questioningly, and he shook his head before leaning down to capture her lips in a soft, gentle kiss. He pulled her slowly upright again, brushing his mouth gently, tenderly along her collarbone as his hands wrapped snugly about her waist to unbuckle her belt to gain access to her trousers. She hissed softly, squirming slightly with both impatience and hunger, only to freeze as she felt his lips dragging down her neck and to her shoulder. He was soft, hesitant as he hovered just over the place where her scar began, and his voice was ragged when he whispered, "Let me... make you forget... Tell me at once... if I hurt you..."

"Mmn...!" His fingers slid past the hemline of her smallclothes, probing, searching, stroking as his lips fell gently on her scar, and she heard rather than felt herself moan at the twinge of pain that was accompanied by a white-hot flash of pleasure. He was gentle, absurdly gentle as he found that hot, wet entrance and slid his fingers in, and she bucked thoughtlessly, grinding her hips forward into his palm as his tongue flicked out to cover the length of her scar. She knew he was restraining himself, desperately trying to find a medium between too soft and too hard for fear of hurting her accidentally due to his strength, but she didn't have the presence of mind to try and scold him for it. It felt too good.

Dimitri grit his teeth at the sensation of her body reacting so eagerly to him, and only that warning, that ceaseless, shriek of a warning of letting go even for a moment forced him to restrict himself. She was not a sewing needle, or even an iron lance... With his bare hands, he could cause her more harm than he ever wished if he dared to forget himself, even for a moment. He couldn't take out his wants on her unrestrained, no matter how much either of them would wish for it. It would only lead to her hurting, and that he would never allow. Never again.

He nipped at her pulse point, marvelling at how there, at least, he could indeed feel the flow of her blood under her skin even if his hands could not capture the sensation of her heartbeat. Her low, pinched moan of pleasure only tightened his groin, and he bent her over onto her hands and knees, reaching to delve his fingers deeper as his mouth once again travelled across her back. He watched her hands grasp at the bedsheets, felt her thighs trembling about his arm, and despite himself... He smirked with arrogant pride. Those sounds she made were for him. Because of him. The way she looked, panting, trembling, flushed from head to toe... Also because of him. No one would ever know she could make those noises, could look like this... No one but him.

His thumb brushed across that sensitive bundle of nerves that were the source of her pleasure, and he heard her cry out before she gritted her teeth audibly in a desperate attempt to control her voice. It almost made him laugh as he sat up on his knees behind her, pressing himself down across her bare back so she could feel his skin on hers as he continued to pleasure her. His fingers moved in a slow, deep mockery of what was to come as his teeth dragged across the nape of her neck and back to her earlobe, whispering thoughtlessly as the gasps and moans she made drowned his mind in a haze of lust, "By the flames, I've wanted you like this for so long... Too long. Even when we first met... You were the most beautiful creature I'd ever laid my eyes on... I wanted you, right from the beginning... You've haunted me for so long... Hearing your voice now... Feeling you... I'll never be able to get enough."

"D-Dimitri..." Raine groaned as her knuckles whitened as she grasped desperately at the bedsheets to try and find an anchor to hold herself against him. He was growing rougher, his breathing turning deeper, harsher in her ear, though she wasn't sure if he was aware of it or not. She felt no pain, not even discomfort as he grasped her waist to steady her against his movements, and hearing those words being growled into her ear only made her want him all the more. If he was being honest, then he had been the first to know, but that was flattery she dearly enjoyed hearing. She knew herself when she had fallen for him, though it had taken hindsight for her to realize just what those feelings that had been stirring in her chest, but to say it as openly as he did... She wasn't sure she had the courage.

Dimitri watched her left arm shudder, threatening to buckle in keeping her upright as she fought to lengthen the pleasure and stave off her climax, and he halted his movements almost immediately as he understood her weakness was making itself known again. She whimpered with dismay as his fingers quit their torture and then withdrew, but he was quick to soothe her as he leaned backwards, taking her with him and removing all the weight on her arms as he whispered huskily against her neck, "You still aren't fully recovered... It'll be easier on you if it's like this..."

Slow, firm hands easily lifted her off of her knees with all the ease of picking up a book, and Raine wasn't sure if she was more aroused or startled by just how strong he was to be able to manipulate her body so easily. In one smooth movement she had gone from sitting up on her knees to now straddling his waist, and she bit her lips as she felt his arousal straining against his trousers to graze against her core. Her hips moved thoughtlessly for more friction, eliciting a sharp groan from the man underneath her, and she bit her lip, taking a moment now that she had it to study him as he held her, loose but close as he stared up at her with hunger written plain across his face.

No matter where her hands landed on his torso they found a scar of some sort, from that X shaped wound that mimicked the cerulean filling his ebony armour boasted, to many other hints of battles won, lost, or barely survived over his last five years. It was with a mix of pain and bittersweet experience that she could name each weapon that had given him each scar, and her fingers were gentle, soothing as she stroked over each one as she took advantage of the change of position to touch him. Burn scars, long faded but still noticeable decorated his shoulder and travelled farther across his back, likely from the attack in Duscur territory, and she leaned down against him, her lips touching his shoulder when she murmured, "I love you... Touch me, Dimitri. Make me feel whole again... You're the only one who can..."

Stifling a groan, Dimitri watched as Raine shed her trousers and smallclothes in one, smooth, elegant movement before she pulled at his buckle to release him from his own restraints. He watched, panting and grasping tightly at the mattress as she pulled the offending garments down for him, obviously pleased to be doing him any sort of service after all he had already done to her. She straddled him again the moment their clothes hit the floor, pressing every inch of her bare skin to his as her arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands rose to her waist, holding her still when she began to lift herself up on her knees in preparation. She looked to him quizzically, her seafoam-coloured eyes wanting and curious and dazed all somehow at once, and he reached to touch her lower lip, stroking it with his thumb before he whispered raggedly, "Do you want this...? Do you truly want me?"

Raine felt both a mixture of exasperation and bittersweet affection at his hesitation, his uncertainty, even after everything that had already happened between them. Part of her couldn't believe he still needed the reassurance, but the other was well aware it was necessary. He was afraid... Afraid and hurt and desperate, and to him, everything was as fragile as glass in those powerful hands of his. Herself included. It didn't matter how far they had already gone, or what words they had traded... He still needed to know, needed to hear her say the words. It was as endearing as it was painful, and she cupped his cheeks, her fingers caressing his skin and his bangs as she embraced him wholly as she asked in a soft murmur, "You're asking me this even now...? You have to know the answer already..."

"I can't... give you anything but myself... and as I am... That's less than nothing. You're hedging all of your bets on me somehow managing to succeed where all I've ever done is fail." Dimitri's words came harsh and haggard, and though his entire body was shrieking to forget the words, forget his better sense... He still clung to it with all the strength and sanity he had left to him. It didn't matter how soft and hot she felt against him. It didn't matter how her voice had done things to him that even his dreams has failed to do after five long years of near-constant torment. He couldn't in good faith proceed... Not yet. It choked him, made his voice crack even as his hands trembled on her waist to ensure she did not move, "I will give you everything you ask... Whenever, however you ask of it of me... Even if it's just to be a slave to your whims for the rest of my life, to leave in the morning and come back every night, I'd do it happily for you... but what do you get in return? What promise can I make, that you can trust in, when I haven't proven anything yet?"

It hurt, hearing him speak so lowly of himself even though a great part of her new it was right of him to. He hadn't yet done anything of true substance. A battle in Brigid, and a battle to secure the safety of Garreg Mach simply were not enough to redeem him. She knew it just as well as he did. Still... She didn't want it to matter. He had suffered long enough. He had been punishing himself for long enough. To hear him say so willingly he would be her slave and do so happily, if that was all she wished from him... She understood that level of self-hatred, of unwillingness to believe he deserved anything but the scraps off of the floor, but she wouldn't allow it to consume him again. She wrapped her arms about him to hug him close, well aware he wouldn't permit her to do more than that when they were so close, and so on the verge, but she ignored it as she asked him plainly, "Can you promise that you'll love me?"

"I can promise you that, but..."

"That's all I want, Dimitri. I just want you to love me." Raine interrupted him before he could once more drag himself back down, and she leaned back on her knees, staring at him as her fingers twined themselves lovingly in his thick, shaggy blond mane. His one cerulean eye watched her longingly, want and hunger and adoration all mixing into a desperate, woeful expression, and she pulled him gently forward, allowing their lips to brush in the faintest of kisses as her body pressed flush into his, "I don't need anything else for this moment... Just you loving me. If you do, and you promise to continue, then... I'm already yours. Take me. Because every moment I have to wait is torture... I need you."

"As you wish..." Dimitri whispered as her mouth covered his again in a deep, hungry kiss that gave everything, and held back absolutely nothing. His skin felt as if it was aflame all over again as her naked body slid against his own, searching, urging, and his hands slid down along her sides, resting on her hips to direct her movements. He watched as she bit her lower lip in expectation, seafoam-coloured eyes half-lidded with pleasure, and he was slow, painfully slow as he lowered her onto him. Both of them groaned in unison as she sheathed herself on him, her nails pricking at the back of his neck as his fingers gripped down instinctively into her skin as she took him to the brink in one, long, smooth movement. He grit his teeth, resisting the urge to buck up into her as she moaned and twisted on top of him, taking him in and calling his name until their bodies fit together like two lost pieces of a puzzle. He spoke hoarsely, fighting with the last bit of his sanity as he felt her breath on his tongue as her mouth urged for his kiss as he repeated his earlier warning, "Tell me immediately... if I start to hurt you..."

Any response was swallowed by another long, deep kiss as he began to move, slow, shakily and he restrained her far too strongly for her to move of her own volition. She understood his fears fighting with his desires, his want to ravish her at war with his worry of hurting her if he lost control, and for the moment, she ceded to him. It wasn't as if she had the strength to fight him, and those tightly-gripping hands were scalding on her flesh as much as they gave her pleasure as he held her still for his movements. His tongue plundered her mouth as she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, milking out more sounds she hadn't known she was capable of making as his hips rocked beneath her own.

"Raine..." He breathed her name against her throat as her head fell back when they parted for a gasp of air, and he found his rhythm as her legs wrapped themselves as best they could around his waist. She was tight and hot and wet, and the pleasure was near-blinding as he pushed in deeper with every thrust of his hips. Her moans were music, more beautiful than anything the choir in the chapel could ever manage to make, and his mouth burnt a path down her chest, seeking where his hands had been before as he hissed into her skin, "All those nights in the cold... Dreaming of you like this... Over and over... And you feel so much better in my hands now... I'll never be able to let you go now that I've had a taste of you..."

"Aah...!" Raine bit down hard on her lower lip to stifle her sounds as Dimitri's mouth went on the offensive, kissing, licking, suckling at her sensitive skin with wild abandon. It was a different sensation than his hands, hotter, wetter, but the shivers it drew were all the more sweet for it. It made her tense and twitch, twisting helplessly in his hands as he switched from one taut nipple to the next, lavishing it with all the attention he could muster between his ever deepening thrusts. Then his right hand lifted, his knuckles dragging along her side before his hand affixed itself onto the breast his mouth was not currently occupied by, and she whimpered into his hair as her hips bucked instinctively, "Dimitri, please...!"

It was a helpless endeavour, restraining himself from her when his hands wanted to be all over her body at once despite all better sense arguing to the contrary. He leaned her back against the bed, winding her legs about his hips and pushing in deeper, and her resounding cry of his name only told him he had chosen wisely to cede to his instincts. He was on fire, both with pleasure and with lust, and he slammed forward again, taking advantage of their position to reach even deeper when her back arched and her ankles locked behind his hips. It released something primal, something dark and twisted and bestial inside of him, and his teeth dragged on her nipple as he growled out thoughtlessly, "That's it... Louder... Scream my name... Just like you did in all of my dreams. Loud enough so the whole of the monastery hears you. You belong to me... You're _mine,_ Raine..."

Raine felt her nails scratching down his back as she gripped down onto him like a lifeline, anchoring herself so she could move in time with each of his thrusts. He hit so deep that it was almost painful, but if anything was truly hurting, her mind could no longer register it. There was only him, the scent, taste and feel of his body on hers, inside of hers, and it wiped everything else away cleanly. His words pierced her through like arrows, making her twist helplessly underneath him, and her legs trembled as she gasped out his name in answer to his demand. There was no denying him. Not when her own dreams had been as vivid, been as haunting... She wanted him with a passion bordering on the insane. She wouldn't be sated until she had him. Every last inch.

Yet, there was also that twisting, aching, throbbing feeling deep within that warned her she couldn't take much more of this, no matter how much she still was craving him. Her body was reaching its limit, the pleasure arcing more and more wildly through her nerves until only barely coherent whimpers and moans peppered her every breath. He was so deliciously heavy and hard, making her cot shake with the force of his movements, but she had long since ceased to care about the thuds, or the volume of their noises. And his groans, his snarls that met her own whenever she cried his name... Something was spiking, making her tighten her hold on him fiercely as she gasped against his searching mouth, "Dimitri... I c-can't...!"

"Say my name..." Dimitri repeated hoarsely, clutching her face with one hand as the other held her waist and pinned her firmly to the bed as his hips slammed against her own again and again. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes dazed and lips swollen from his kisses, but still it wasn't enough. Not just yet. He could feel it too, that tightening, the shudder, and his tongue traced her lower lip, milking another ragged moan of his name from her throat as he whispered, "We'll end this together, Raine... Call my name...!"

"Aah...! Dimitri!" Nails broke skin, and Raine heard herself crying out in blissful agony as that something deep within her body snapped when his teeth fell onto her neck as her back arched and her body gave way to a wild spasm. White-hot fingers of pleasure curled themselves around her spine, making her deaf, blind, and numb to everything but the feeling of his body shaking with hers as he joined her climax with his own. She felt herself tense for one long moment, holding that bittersweet cresting surge for all it was worth before the strength was sucked from every muscle in her body and left her exhausted, limp, and breathless beneath him.

She heard him groan, felt his breath heaving through his chest as he nearly collapsed on top of her as a similar weakness tore through him as his end found him. His arm was trembling beside her on her thin mattress as he rested the majority of his weight on it, and when he made to pull away, she dug her nails back into his shoulders unthinkingly. He paused, uncertain, and she clung tighter, unsure of why but feeling that throbbing need all the same deep in her chest and stinging in her eyes when she whispered into his neck, "No... Don't leave me... Stay..."

Gentle hands lifted her slightly, giving him just enough room to roll to the side without dislodging himself from her grip, and she was glad for it as she curled herself as snugly as she possibly could against him. Her legs intertwined with his, trapping him against her and refusing to let go, and from the arms that snaked their way about her body in return, she knew he was in no hurry to let her go, either. His heart was hammering against her cheek in his chest, and his breath was heavy in her hair, but nothing mattered more than the soft, wondering tone in his voice when he whispered, "I love you... More than anything... I love you..."

Raine felt his hand moving along her side and then somewhere behind her over the edge of the cot, searching... and then a warm weight covered her a moment later. She blinked in surprise, realizing he had the foresight to cover her trembling body with his cloak, seeing as the blankets were far too twisted underneath their bodies to be pulled out for any use. It was heavy but shockingly warm, and suffused with his scent as he cradled her close, while their breathing slowly began to regulate. She nuzzled his shoulder, lips errantly pressing against a scar within her reach, and his hands rubbed large, soft circles into her back in answer.

"Will you... stay with me tonight...?"

The question slipped out against her will, but the moment it left her lips, Raine had no regret in asking it. She looked up at him, taking in the sweat-slicked strands of blond hair stuck to his flushed face, and the way his one good eye stared at her as if she held the entire world in her hands. His hold on her gentled for a moment before it became stronger again, more purposeful, and he drew her closer and into a tight, firm embrace. He nuzzled the top of her head, feathering gentle kisses all across the crown of her hair before he muttered back hoarsely, "Tonight, and every other night you ask of me... I'm yours, my beloved. Do with me what you will... I will never leave your side again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> And after a few chapters of build-up... There's the Raine/Dimitri smut! It's been the Raine/Dimitri show as of late, (but hey, they deserved their time in the limelight) but things will be getting back on track soon with Fhirdiad. There's still more ground I want and need to cover, but I'll be doing so as I go, so please, don't worry. I will get to where I wanna as soon as I can! And there is indeed more couples to be showing up and getting more love as the writing continues, including more Warin and Shamir in the future. This version of AM is setting up to be longer than the canon version (to nobody's surprise), but I hope I've made it entertaining thus far, and not so much of a slog!
> 
> I'm finally getting over a nasty infection, and the antibiotics have made me almost as sick as the infection did. I'm off my sleep cycle, but I'm slowly getting back into the rhythm of being human. This month has been tough, but I think I'm over the worst of it thus far. I just need a few more nights of good, normal sleep, and I'll probably be as good as new. The rough part of writing is that it really makes me work nocturnal hours rather than human ones, so I'm tucking in at six am when I should just be tossing about and trying not to wake up... It's a curse, but I want to finish my chapter, dammit!
> 
> My penchant for long author's notes seems to have flown out the window along with my sleep schedule, so, I'll just repeat my usual spiel. Thanks for reading this far, and please drop me a review should you feel the need. I thank you so much for your time and appreciation, and I hope you have a good one until we see each other again with my next chapter! See you all soon!
> 
> Mood: Slaphappy.
> 
> Listening To: "Piece By Piece" - P!nk
> 
> ~ Sky


	16. Darkness in Fhirdiad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: Friendship, Romance, War, Mystery, Angst. (T)
> 
> Characters: Shamir, Warin, Ashe, Petra, Raine, Dimitri, Cornelia.
> 
> Summary: Fhirdiad had become a battleground, with civilians rioting and taking to the streets amongst the rebellion forces that surged forward against those of the Dukedom. There would be no mercy for any who stood in each other's way, but that was the reality of warfare. Raine felt nothing as she angled her blade, taking enemy after enemy down with her in every swing... Cornelia stood alone ahead, a pawn of the Emperor, and what secrets she had would be laid bare soon enough. She could be patient. There was still time for that before her head was on the ground.

**Harpstring Moon**

**Fhirdiad (Capital Streets)**

**Early Day**

"The woman's done a number on this place..." Warin muttered as he picked his way over the corpses of the fallen, his gauntlets extended and bared as he led his small party over to the eastern ramparts as Raine had directed him at the fore the of the battle. Ashe, Petra, and Shamir kept pace with him easily, the snipers' eyes warily scanning their surroundings as the bulk of the rebellion's forces charged straight ahead to divert attention and take the gates to avoid minimum casualties to the smallfolk. It had been with both surprise and horror to see the civilians taking up arms when the rebellion's soldiers had filled the streets, and Raine had made it a priority for the larger half of her forces to cover for them and keep them out of the thick of the fighting, lest they become targets for Cornelia and her automatons. "There's too many damn civilians in the way..."

"The reserve troop should have evacuated the majority of them by now..." Ashe muttered tersely at Warin's left, and his hand was shaking slightly on the handle of his bow as he agreed silently with Warin's assessment. As heartening as it had been at first, to know the smallfolk of Fhirdiad were happy and willing to throw their lot in with the rebellion the moment the battle had started, he had seen Raine's face twist in shock and displeasure, and had understood at once why she took no joy in the sight. Her first act had been to corral them, to try and get every single civilian, able bodied or no, off of the streets, out of the fighting, and even clear of the city if it was possible to do so. Rodrigue had happily taken over the evacuation, but some simply refused, and had to be persuaded to leave by the threat of force. "It's too dangerous for them to be fighting alongside us..."

"That is the spirit of rebellion. They wish to be free. Taking the matter into their own hands is the option they see as better than flight." Petra mused with a shake of her head, and she had to admit silently that she was quite proud and amazed that the people of Faerghus still had such burning spirits raging within them. The people in Fhirdiad had been suffering for many long years underneath the yoke of the Dukedom, and yet when the opportunity had arose, they had as one all surged into the streets to take to battle as if it was the most natural thing to do. They were all warriors, even if they were not soldiers, and that had to be admired. "Faerghus breeds many a warrior... They are people with pride, just as we are in Brigid."

"Pride's not much good without the skill to back it up." Shamir pointed out bluntly, and she narrowed her eyes as she spotted the target that Raine had directed the group towards when they had first splintered their forces in the initial wave of attacks. The smallfolk joining them in the streets had complicated matters greatly, but at least Rodrigue had proved his stripes and his influence and was lessening the impact as much as he could. It was a good show of skill, but she wondered if it would be enough. She nudged Warin idly, nodding towards the ramparts before asking, "That's the spot, yeah? Shall I set up?"

"Considering current movements..." Warin turned his head, glancing about the battlefield with a quick, trained eye to take in as much information as he possibly could. He was glad he had explored Fhirdiad before in his youth alongside his father, and while the streets were not as familiar as Garreg Mach, he still had enough working knowledge to be confident in the positions he and his sister were currently taking and aiming for. He turned his eyes back to that spot overlooking the central gateway where Cornelia was currently stationed, and he then mused, "They're going fast, splitting up to take out the mages running the puppets, so it'll be best to follow their example. Set your nest, while we clear out the vermin about you."

"Understood." Shamir needed no other permission, and in a quick bound she parted from the trio, sliding into the shadows and leaping up the unmanned stairway in a spectacular display of agility. She had no concerns of finding enemies blocking her path, as she had already had her eye affixed on her potential nest ever since Raine had outlined her plans before the battle. It was a foolish move, leaving such a spot unguarded when the view below was so unobscured, but she knew that was the way of their enemies today. No one expected an army to resort to assassin techniques, but Raine was no regular commander. She knew full well the advantage of using every man's talent, and while the duty set on Shamir's shoulders was a hefty one... She was glad to have been given it. This was a job she was uniquely capable of pulling off with the least margin of error. It was logical Raine would choose her to do it, and no one else.

Warin watched her go, his eyes affixed on her back until she disappeared into the shadows, and then quickly he was returning to himself and his two fellows who had been tasked with making enough of a distraction on the ramparts to buy Shamir the time she needed to set herself up to her liking. His hands tightened inside of his gauntlets as he, Petra, and Ashe climbed the stairs, though he added tersely as he caught sight of the Dukedom troops they were readying to engage, "Fast, and efficient. No prisoners, unlike with the bridge."

Petra and Ashe needed no more than that as the trio burst like a thunderbolt from the stairwell and into the melee, and they were wild flashes of arrows, gauntlets and a silver axe as they leapt into the fray. The element of surprise gave them all they needed as cursing and shouting and alarmed shrieks were silenced by the frantic singing of weapons. The small retinue of men stood little chance, though they fought back valiantly all the same.

Petra was a whirlwind even without the aid of her wyvern, having needed to once again resort to travel and combat on foot due to the tight confines of fighting within a walled city. She proved however that she did not need the superiority of the air to have mastery over battle, and her silver axe soon was covered in crimson flecks of gore as it flashed out over and over, blocking blows and lashing out with far heavier and speedier ones than her opponents could ever hope to manage. Their overlarge armour was heavy and cumbersome, but her axe cut through with ease, and left her enemies laying across the ramparts in her wake.

Ashe was her shadow, covering her movements with his arrows, and no one came close enough to try to overwhelm her without quickly receiving a bolt dead between their eye slits in their helmets. He was fast on the draw and faster to reload, and not a single enemy ever came within distance for him to switch his weapon out for the lance he used for closer quarters. He had no need for it, as his arrows created steel rain and kept any reinforcements far at bay in fear of his strikes, which both Warin and Petra took full advantage of.

Unlike the two younger students, Warin was in and out amongst the enemy's numbers like a ghost, his gauntlets flashing in silver streaks to leave rivers of blood spraying from open wounds and torn throats. He had no fear of close combat, and even less of going up against much better armoured opponents. He could find the weaknesses in their heavy platemail and draw blood before they could even turn to find him, and by the time they did, he was already gone and onto his next victim as they realized all of their armour hadn't protected them from his blades.

It was over as quickly as it began as Ashe's arrow found the commander's right eye from over and behind his troops, and Petra and Warin made quick work of the remaining few soldiers as he fell hard off of the ramparts and to the ground below. Ashe checked his quiver, ensuring he had not run empty yet as he watched Petra carefully wipe the blood from her weapon before she turned back to look at him. They traded a comforting smile at seeing each other unhurt, glad for the small mercy in the midst of all the chaos, and then both were looking to Warin as he stood up and shook the blood from his own weapons as he surveyed the damage, as well as the rest of the battlefield from their new position.

The ramparts gave him the height he needed to see the battle unfolding, and it was clear that the rebellion's forces had the Dukedom's nearing absolute defeat. Only small pockets of men remained in the farthest corners of the streets, and the advancing parties would have them wiped out in minutes. Their firepower had proved superior over Cornelia's machinations, and with the Empire unable to provide excess troops, the rebellion's forces had them vastly outnumbered. The Dukedom hadn't stood a chance despite their willingness to use the smallfolk as human shields, and when the civilians had turned on their troops, their defeat had been sealed in stone before the first blow had been struck.

Still, as Warin noted how few of the rebellion's troops were actually on the battlefield, he did admit his sister had played her hand far more conservatively than she could have. When the smallfolk had begun to riot, she had ordered all of Rodrigue's men, which had made up for more than half of her own accompanying forces, to see to their evacuation. It was a wise move to minimize casualties, and from the look of the streets, it had proven successful. Only a small number of civilians had remained behind despite orders to flee, and those were encircled by proper soldiers to keep their movements limited, and their access to the battlefield all but null. He shook his head, muttering to himself with both amusement and annoyance, "At least they're following your orders now to the letter... Heartening change, but long overdue..."

"Has Lord Rodrigue finished with the evacuation?" Ashe's voice broke through his thoughts, and Warin turned to see him and Petra likewise overlooking the battlefield with their hands tightening again on their weapons in earnest. He knew it had pained them to leave behind the bulk of the fighting to join him on securing Shamir's post, but he had asked for them personally, and upon hearing of that, neither of the two had protested their orders. He glanced to Warin before back to the field, taking in all that the older mercenary had and noting that there still was work to be done, "Should we regroup with the others now, Sir Warin?"

"No. You two are staying here until the others call for you. There may be more reinforcements, and I'm not risking leaving Shamir here unprotected. That's why I asked for you two to accompany me." Warin replied with a shake of his head, and he turned back to the archer and wyvern rider as he explained himself fully. Their obedience to his orders was something he took with both pride and appreciation, as he was not their professor, but ever since the day they had met on the way to Garreg Mach so many moons ago, it had been those two who had trusted him from the outset. He trusted them in return, in their skills and their loyalty to their professor, and it made it calm and at ease as he continued on firmly, "I want the two of you to protect this section of the ramparts until the capital is fully under control. If I could, I'd stay myself and send you both back to join your classmates, but Raine's requested me for the end of the fighting. I'm leaving Shamir's protection in your hands. Can you do that for me?"

Petra blinked in surprise, looking to the earnest, torn expression on the older man's face before she turned her head slightly to the tower where she knew the Dagdan sniper was now setting up her nest for her own mission. She was not foolish. She was well aware that her professor's brother and Shamir were involved, even if they did their level best to keep any and all hints of their relationship out of sight to others. Their private lives were their own, and yet there he was, asking them to protect her in his absence, and making it clear in his words and expression that he hated to have to do it, but trusted them with her all the same. It brought a faint smile to her face, admiring how far he had come since they had met in the forests surrounding Garreg Mach with weapons in hand and a cold, curt dismissal of caring for anything but his sister's promise... He had grown.

Ashe glanced to Petra once, taking in her surprise and then the softening of her face in acceptance before he turned back to Warin and nodded in understanding. He would not go against any order that Warin would give him, regardless of how outlandish or impossible it sounded. He trusted Warin and his experience. He had led them through Fhirdiad with ease, keeping them out of the fighting until it was necessary to conserve their strength and keep them safe, and it had only proven that he was every inch the leader that his father was, even if he would deny it to the grave. "All right. We'll stay here and protect the tower for you. Petra and I should be more than enough to handle that."

"Thanks, Ashe." Warin nodded to him in gratitude, and he sheathed his blades after giving his arms another hasty shake to clear off any remaining blood from them. He glanced once over to the tower, unable to help himself as he hated the idea of leaving her behind even if it was the mission. He shook his head clear of the thoughts, focussing himself as he turned for the path that would lead back to his sister, and the end goal that she had made abundantly clear she would not take without him there to witness it. He spared Petra a nod as well before he bounded off of the edge of the ramparts, avoiding the stairs entirely before he hit the ground running.

Raine and her troops had been efficient, clearing out street after street with extreme prejudice. The slain bodies of the Dukedom soldiers were everywhere, with not a single one having been spared from the rout, and the ruins of the automaton puppets lay everywhere in proof of the heavy battling it had taken to bring them down. They were strange machines, things too reminiscent of the damned puppets that Rhea had trapped the Holy Mausoleum with when she had lured them all there with the promise of a gift, and he wondered just what it took to create, and control, such bizarre and dangerous things. He was almost disappointed he hadn't had a chance to test his mettle against the damned things himself, but he knew that was only an arrogant wish of the warrior in him. He took a sharp turn for the north, following the sprawling staircases where he knew his sister was headed, with Dimitri likely in tow.

This was personal for the prince, taking back his home from the woman who had implicated him in the murder of his uncle, and to face her himself was sorely needed closure. Yet, Warin was well aware that was not why Raine was asking for his presence, too. The two of them were more than enough for a woman like Cornelia, and yet she hadn't made a move for the woman's head without him. Instead, she had chosen to wait, spreading out her forces to ensure the cleanse of the city, and Warin wondered if her hunch was correct. It was the only reason why he could imagine she would demand his presence there, to ensure another pair of ears and eyes were there to confirm her suspicions.

It was difficult to think of, how far the reach of their enemies had truly spread, but he understood exactly why she was playing so cautiously now after Grondor. They were not quite in the endgame yet, with enemies still everywhere, but she was not about to waste any opportunity she had to root them out of the dirt to face the harshness of the light. He understood that much, it was standard procedure for driving out any hidden enemy, but she was still taking no chances. Her own word had already proven to not be enough with her advisors. She wanted more witnesses, more proof for when the time came to come clean of her suspicions, and her intentions for carrying the war farther than most would ever have guessed, or even imagined.

He bent low, entering a hunter's run as he flew through the streets, dodging about corpses and debris that he knew from experience would take weeks to clean and dispose of. Still, the people of Fhirdiad were hardy... They were survivors. They would overcome this trial as they had overcome the Dukedom's yoke. They were rallying, rallying behind the strength of their returned prince and soon-to-be king, and that would give them the much-needed impetus to continue forward into a brighter, more stable future. He had to admit, he shared Petra's admiration for them, in a detached sort of way. Any people who would choose to go down fighting to the last, regardless of their talents or experience, were people deserving of respect... even if all better sense said to leave the fighting to the soldiers.

Flights upon flights of stairs awaited him, rounding his way to the centrepiece of the battle where Raine awaited him, and he was not surprised to see that she had taken only Dimitri with her to the fore, while allowing for the rest of her men to spread out and quell the closest areas. Cornelia was well and truly surrounded, her guards' bodies lying about on the ground, but still the woman stood tall and proud and defiant even as Raine and Dimitri approached her warily. He dropped in from the north, opposite of his sister and from behind, and he silenced himself as he slowed to a crawl. He wanted the element of surprise for the worst case scenario, and he steeled his body, tensing himself as he overheard the exchanges happening just at the edge of his earshot.

"My, my... It's been such a long time, hasn't it, Your Highness? Look at you. You've grown so awfully strong."

Her voice dripped with venom, a rancid, disgusted hatred, and Warin could well imagine the smile she was wearing as she faced down both Dimitri and Raine without a trace of fear. The situation didn't seem to bother her an ounce, as if she had seen far worse, or thought those before her were mere insects, and she stood tall and proud despite the rivers of blood that ran from her fallen soldiers both at her feet and in the streets. Whether it was arrogance or confidence, Warin admittedly could not tell, but he did know that it made his spine stiffen, and his hands clench in instinctive want to separate that head from her body the moment he could.

"Tch... How shameless of you..." Dimitri's answer came in a low, growled snarl, his body tense with anger and his one good eye blazing with battle-light. But he still was calm, still was a centre of a storm rather than the raging whirlwind, and Warin knew full well it was Raine's influence that had let him regain his self-control. Still, he was testing his limits, coming face to face with one of the handful who had started him on this path of hatred and fear and vengeance, and that showed in his voice when he spoke again, "I bet it was you... You who killed my uncle, and had me framed all those years ago, wasn't it? Am I right?"

"Hah!" Cornelia's laughter was loud, loud and arrogantly proud, and it rang out like cracked bells from a ruined chapel as she held out her arms without a sign of shame or self-reflection. She truly did not care for his words, for his anger, and though Warin could not see her face, he could imagine the wicked, cruel grin that was spreading across it as she spoke almost regretfully, "Too true, too true, dear little prince... Aah, I'd already forgotten about that loveliness... And yet... There are so much more pressing matters to speak of... Your little friend... How dare you bring her here instead of killing that girl and playing your part as you were meant to? You simply had to go and ruin all of our so carefully laid plans, didn't you? Why can you children never do as you're expected?"

"So, you know of me, do you?" Raine's response came calm and almost neutrally, cutting off Dimitri from furthering into a rage and bringing full attention to herself with a tilt of her head and cold, calculating look in her seafoam-coloured eyes. Her sword was unsheathed and softly pulsing crimson in her hand, but she held it loosely at her side, as if she had no intention of using it just yet despite the threat. Her calm drew in Dimitri and helped to quell his knee-jerk reaction to charge forward, a clever move that gave her time, much needed time, as she continued on errantly, "How well do you know me, then? Do you call me by name, or is there another term you use for me?"

"You're a smart little girl... Too smart, I'm afraid, for your own good..." The reply came acidly, far more angrily than her dismissal of Dimitri had, and Warin twitched as his hands curled into tighter fists at his sides. Her entire tone and demeanour had changed in an instant, from arrogant and dismissive, to deadly and almost angry, and Warin felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in silent warning. It was as if an eagle was spreading its wings in a threat display, making itself seem ten times larger than it truly was to intimidate its prey or rivals, "I do so wish we could catch up a little, and yet... I'd much prefer you dead at my feet, little Fell Star. You've been a thorn that I've dearly been wishing to remove."

"So, then, you're one of them... Good to know. Then I won't waste my breath trading taunts. I'm going to kill you, but before I do, I'll give you a chance to speak." Raine's voice remained deceptively calm, deceptively casual, but her hand had tightened on her blade despite the fact that not an inch of her body had tensed, or changed its posture. She seemed as calm as if she was having a simple afternoon chat over tea with one of her students and not facing down an enemy commander, but that was simply one of her many talents as the Ashen Demon. She was back in full, true form, at her peak with no chains to hold or weigh her down, and that freedom made her dangerous, made her sharper than her blade when she continued on, "Tell me everything you know of the Tragedy of Duscur... and why it was so important for you to cause it."

"Such weighty accusations...! Yet... Mm. What would you do if I told you nothing? Kill me anyway? I know you can, Fell Star. But I don't fear death, so your threats mean little to me." It was an easy, effortless dodge, made still in that voice dripping hate and venom even as she tried to disguise it underneath pretty words and haughty, dismissive actions. Yet... After a moment, she looked from Raine to Dimitri instead, and her voice again changed, turning amused, sadistic as she almost mused in bittersweet longing for the memory, "But, still... I suppose a little reward, for getting this far, would not be remiss. A tale then... A tale of ten years ago, when a certain someone made a wish... A wish to see her real daughter again, no matter what or who she had to sacrifice to do so... and how I helped her make that wish come true, at the cost of the king's lovely head."

"You...! My stepmother...!"

A hand stretched out, calmly interrupting Dimitri's rage, and Warin watched, both spellbound and uncertain, as she carefully, gently, pressed the back of her hand against Dimitri's chest. The much taller prince had begun to stride forward, his hands gripping down powerfully on his lance, and yet with one simple touch she stopped him dead in tracks without having to look at him. Raine spoke quietly, firmly, as she kept her gaze on the woman before her as she instructed Dimitri in a commanding tone, "Not yet... I know what you feel, and what you want, but not yet. Still yourself. We'll get the answers we want, one way or another... Killing her now would be a waste, especially if you want the whole truth."

"You wound me! It _is_ the whole truth. My dear Patricia wanted only to see her true family again, and at any cost." Cornelia answered with a sharp tinge of anger breaking through her facade, and Raine's patience, and her tight hold on Dimitri, was clearly something she had not expected, nor wanted to see. She outstretched her hands theatrically, playing to an invisible crowd even as a sneer curled her lips and made her voice ring out hallow and venomous in the stillness, "Her family meant everything to her! You certainly know that feeling yourself, do you not? And so I gave her aid, just as I am meant to. I gave her her dearest wish. But, I suppose the shock may make it seem like lies to you, yes, poor little prince? Unloved by the only mother he ever knew. So pitiful. So despairing... But it is the truth. It is what you asked for."

"You've failed to mention how fulfilling this wish of Patricia's was of any importance to you. Unless killing the king was your goal all along, and you simply used her wish to fulfil your own." Raine pointed out calmly, and she felt Dimitri twitch against the back of her hand as he looked from her, to Cornelia, and then back to her in surprise. She didn't regard him however, knowing that if she dared to take an eye from her opponent she very well could lose her head before she could blink. She had underestimated her and her kindred twice before, five years ago... She would not make the same mistake, and pay the same price now. She would answer the questions later, for she knew there would be many of them, but the more pressing concern stood in front of her, and made her voice sharp and unforgiving as she pressed harshly, "How much of what happened in Duscur was _her_ want, and not that of you and yours?"

"You ask too many questions, Fell Star..." Frustration coloured her voice, frustration and a deep, dark hatred that once again raised Warin's hackles. He watched, keeping himself painfully still as he knew he must as Cornelia's hands clenched into fists at her side. Her work of taunting, weaving her tales of truths and lies were not working, and the anticipated outcome she craved was nowhere to be found. It made her play boring, and it made her angry that someone had come in ten steps ahead. Sparks began to flicker at her fingertips, and her voice was a sibilant snarl, losing all of her dramatic delivery and feminine charm as she growled out, "It's time to be rid of you."

"No, I think I've asked enough... and time grows short here. Whatever truth you have will be buried with you. I can see that in your eyes. But the order isn't mine to give." Raine replied with a shake of her head, but she steadied herself all the same as that first fireball flew. Her sword sang out with ease, cutting the spell in twain and sending the two halves harmlessly sailing by both her and Dimitri's sides to collide with the ledges behind them. Not even a speck of ash had touched them, and she looked to Dimitri, nodding her head as she gave way to him now, "It's your call. This is your business to settle, not mine. You gave me what I asked for. Now take what you want. The floor belongs to you."

Dimitri's hand tightened down on his lance... but he had no intention of stepping forward. Instead he raised his weapon, and slammed the blunt end down on the ground with one forceful, echoing strike. The pre-planned signal was answered the moment it was given, and with eager, bloodthirsty speed. The arrow flew straight and true from the tower, finding its home in the side of Cornelia's throat with almost no effort, and piercing on through from the force of the shot. He watched, teeth tightly gritted as the former mage of the Kingdom stumbled, choking on her own blood as her eyes widened in horrified shock. It would only take a handful of moments, moments that would spare both him and Raine injuries they could not afford to take in a prolonged battle after spending so much time healing that moon. He watched, impassively, as she fell to her knees, hands grasping at her throat before the life left her eyes, and her body sagged to the ground and fell entirely still.

Slowly, painfully slowly, Dimitri turned to see Raine watching him with careful, guarded eyes as Cornelia's corpse lay harmless and still before them and the capital's castle. Part of him was surprised, and yet another was numb... She had known. Her hunch had proven right, and he wasn't sure if that hurt him more than it startled him by how far ahead she was capable of seeing. His body stung, his heart ached, and he shook his head slowly, painfully slowly as he asked her quietly, tiredly, "How did you know? Or was it another one of your guesses?"

"It was an... educated guess, I suppose. You may have forgotten, all those years ago when we first overheard Edelgard as the Flame Emperor, speaking with Thales. He mentioned the Tragedy of Duscur being something they were responsible for... And I knew that kind of thing could not have been done without inside help from the Kingdom." Raine replied with a low, heavy sigh, and she shook the blood from her sword, carefully cleaning the edges of her blade on the leg of her trousers before she sheathed it in a slow, clean movement. "When I was told of Cornelia's immediate allegiance to the Empire, it made enough sense that she would be the traitor. Unless, of course... The Cornelia you knew was not the Cornelia she originally was. Kronya, Solon... Monica and Tomas... It seems to be a pattern, killing and replacing people with power, or influence, and using their faces to further their goals. Cornelia being another plant of sorts made much more sense than her being an opportunistic traitor. Especially considering the sheer speed with which she acted once Edelgard declared war."

Dimitri was silent, drinking in her words and seeing that she had accounted for things he had long ago discarded. He had been so quick to blame Edelgard, to not see past the betrayal and his hatred... but she had seen far more clearly, and thought far more logically. It bothered him, that he had not seen what was now so clear, and he simultaneously appreciated her foresight even if it made him wince. He had never gotten along well with his uncle, or with Cornelia, but to be told so bluntly that the woman once famous for saving his homeland was no more, and instead was merely another puppet as Solon and Kronya had been... He turned his head somewhat, eyeing the corpse of his enemy, before he asked quietly, gruffly, "Do you believe the same of my stepmother?"

"Patricia? I don't know enough of her to say so. And it isn't as if Cornelia, or whatever her real name was, was above spreading lies in order to break your spirit. She said so herself, that she wanted to see you despair... I wouldn't believe anything she said at face value." Raine replied with a firm shake of her head, but she well understood why Dimitri felt the urge to ask, and why, despite their victory, he looked so hallow. She couldn't imagine the hurt he was feeling, nor did she wish to. Her parents had loved her unconditionally, and if she had known that to be a lie, she was well aware it would have broken her to pieces. She looked down however, both uncomfortable and aching for him as she added quietly, "As naive as it sounds, and speaking only for myself... Even if she wished to go home, even if what was said about her desire to see her family was true, that doesn't make her responsible. Those dark-robed mages... They've all proven time and time again they prefer to use people, before they show their hand. Doesn't it make more sense that they would use Patricia's heartsickness to their advantage, before she herself would turn to murder?"

Dimitri wondered how much of her words were an attempt at comforting him, or if she was speaking honestly. But, in the moment... He had to admit it didn't matter. It was a gentle anchor, a preserver as he felt himself beginning to drift, beginning to drown, and he clung to it desperately. Cornelia's words had shaken him, and shaken him badly. To think, the woman who had cared for him had never actually loved him at all, and had conspired to have him and his father murdered... Had been responsible for all that had haunted him since he was little more than a boy... He didn't want to believe it, even if it was true. And hearing her give credence to an alternative, to another motive that made her as much of a victim as anyone else... That he could swallow more easily.

"Dimitri, I'm-" Raine squeaked in alarm as he cut her apology off, pulling her close and wrapping his arms about her in a fierce bear-hug. She stood there silent in surprise, uncertain and concerned, but she felt that gentle tremor in those strong, encompassing arms and she allowed herself to forget the embarrassment and the worry. She leaned in close, resting her cheek against his shoulder as her own arms reached to wind themselves about his waist to return his embrace. It hurt, knowing that he was again so damned vulnerable and in pain, and that she was partially responsible for it. It made her teeth grind, and she tightened her hold before murmuring fiercely, "I'm going to help you find out the truth of all this, Dimitri. No matter what it takes, I promise that I will help you uncover the facts, and those responsible will be found. I promise."

Dimitri heaved out a long, shaky breath into the top of her hair as he squeezed her closer, mindful of his armour and yet wanting to feel her closer in his arms all the same. He wondered, as he had been for the past several weeks what he had done to deserve her or her kindness. She spoke so earnestly, so clearly of wanting to make sure he had closure, to uncover the mystery and put things right, even in the midst of all the chaos about her. He couldn't understand where that drive came from, when she was the one in the most need of support and a shoulder to lean on, but... Still, there she was, again putting him first, above all else, simply because she wished to. It made him ache, both with want and with that deep, smouldering affection that was slowly burning him from the inside-out, and he whispered raggedly into her hair as he allowed himself one more lingering squeeze, "Thank you... It means... everything to me that you'd say those words... But for now... For now, we can put it aside. There's still much to do, and we'll need to turn our attention there, for the time being."

Raine bit her lip, about to argue, but she couldn't get the words out as she heard the sound of the troops approaching in the distance. The city was cleansed of the Empire and Dukedom soldiers, and with Cornelia fallen... The army was coming back together again. Injuries would need attending to, the city would need to be inspected for rebuilding, and corpses would need to be buried... It was more tedious than the battle itself, but she was quickly becoming used to the lifestyle of war. Still... For a moment, just one moment, she wanted to ignore it all and nestle in close to his arms and pretend that nothing else mattered, and it could just be them for awhile longer.

"What is that sound...?" Dimitri spoke quietly, uncertainly as he finally allowed himself to pull away from her and back towards the streets. It was a din of noise, growing louder the closer it came, and he didn't believe for a moment it was their soldiers. It was too raucous for trained men and women to be making, even if the taking of Fhirdiad was indeed something to be celebrating. He stepped to the ramparts with Raine following him like a shadow, and he felt his breath catch in his chest as he heard the chanting, the cheering, rising through the streets. He could catch a glimpse of them now, the civilians and smallfolk, now rushing like a tidal wave amongst the soldiers towards the castle, and he froze both with uncertainty and shock as the sounds came to his ears, yet still somehow failed to register.

"Your name. They're cheering you're name." Raine murmured as she watched the crowd rush about the stairwell, with hundreds of faces staring up in excitement and glee to see their prince above them after all of the fighting had finally ceased. Amongst them stood her students, as well as Rodrigue's men, and to a man, all of them were joining the chant for their future king, and the liberator of their home. She couldn't help but smile, turning to look up at the startled, unsure look on the man's face beside her, and she slid her hand gently into his as she reassured him softly, "You came home to them. You freed them from the Dukedom. This is your welcome, and your thanks... Your Majesty."

From behind the walls, Warin ducked away as the chaos at the front of the stairs grew louder, but he cared little for the celebration, as wise a move as he understood it to be. Rodrigue had allowed the smallfolk back into the city once it had been cleared, and of course every single man, woman, and child that had remained in Fhirdiad had raced as one to welcome back their future king. He and his men had saved them from the Empire, and now he was receiving a hero's welcome... Proof that he was where he belonged, and that he had made the correct decision in returning for his people. It almost made him chuckle, knowing full well Rodrigue had known this would be the reception Dimitri would get, but he supposed that was simply the way of politics, and reinforcing the change that had set them all on this path in the first place.

Still, even though he did feel that surge of relief for the end of the fighting, Warin didn't cede to it as he slid amongst the walls and back to the stairwells. His mind was for one thing and one thing only now that he knew his sister was safe and in protective hands. The crowds were being diverted straight through the city, giving him a clear route to the tower, and he took full advantage of the distraction to make his way there as fast as his feet could carry him. It only took him a handful of minutes, taking the stairs three at a time to make it to the entryway where Shamir had set her nest far up top, and he caught sight of her just as she was leaving, quiver and bow strapped to her back, and a small, light smile playing on her lips from the satisfaction of a job well done.

In one smooth movement Warin pushed her back into the darkness of the stairway, grasping her hands and pinning them to the wall as he leaned down and captured her mouth with his without preamble. After one brief moment of surprise, Shamir melted, sighing against his lips as she relaxed against his chest, eagerly responding to his hunger and want without hesitation. He only lifted his head when the need for air made him dizzy, but he didn't pull back from her. Instead he leaned in further, trapping her between the cold stone and his chest as he ducked his face into her shoulder, nuzzling her neck with a long, tired breath as his arms curled up against her own to lessen the space between their bodies.

"You're breaking the rules." Shamir remarked idly, but if she was annoyed, her voice and body didn't show it as she leaned her head back to give him more room to nuzzle. He had caught her off guard, but that didn't much bother her either, especially if this was to be her reception on the completion of her mission. She knew it had pained him to separate from her, he had been her shadow ever since what had happened in Grondor, and this was merely his way of showing his concern for her safety, and his need to be close to her. She slid one hand free of his, reaching to lovingly brush her fingers through his matted navy curls as she asked with a hint of a smile, "Do you not care about keeping us a secret anymore?"

"Everyone's busy cheering at the princeling. We've time." Warin dodged the question, brushing his mouth along her throat to elicit a quiet gasp, and he pushed her more firmly against the stone to feel every single curve of her body flattening out against the harder planes of his. She felt too damned good against him, intoxicating and hot and soft all at once, and it made him burn with want of her, regardless of the time and place. He knew he was behaving like a child, running to her for comfort and security, but he admittedly didn't care how bad he had to look. She gave him grounding, allowed him to show he was weak, and he relished it selfishly as he nipped at her earlobe, "Give me a few minutes..."

"You know you don't need to ask." Shamir told him quietly, and she reached to wind her arms about his neck to hold him more firmly against her for the moment. They were safely tucked away, and from what she had seen from her vantage point up above, no one was about to notice them missing. Even if someone were, it truly wasn't as if she cared. When he had explained why he had wanted to keep their relationship close to the chest, she had not argued. They were mercenaries, and moreover, they both had no need or desire to share their personal lives with others. One day the secret would get out, if it hadn't already, but Warin was jealous of his privacy, and he wanted to keep her to himself for as long as he was able. She knew the feeling and shared it, so she found no reason to complain. It wasn't as if they were ashamed of one another. She wouldn't be wearing his mother's ring if she was. They simply wanted to be able to enjoy one another, for as long as they could, in uninterrupted and private bliss for as long as possible.

Shamir bit her lip, keeping herself silent as she felt Warin's mouth travelling lovingly across her neck, finding the hammering pulse point before sinking his teeth against her skin. She swallowed her groan, feeling that familiar surge of heat blossoming deep in her middle, and she wondered idly if there was enough time to steal a round or two before anyone noticed that they were missing. From the noticeable bulge in his trousers as he pressed up against her, she could tell the same thought was on his mind, and she tangled her fingers in his hair as she reminded him regretfully, "Your sister will notice you're gone..."

"I know." Warin sighed just as mournfully, but he didn't release his hold on her all the same. He wanted to feel her body against his, wanted to hear her breath in his ear and her heartbeat under his palm, and he wasn't about to let her go until he had his fill. It was becoming a terrible habit, seeking her out after every battle, every mission, to steal her away like this if they weren't paired together, but he couldn't find it in himself to stop. It was the only thing that kept him steady, the only thing he felt safe in grasping for, and he nuzzled against her neck again, feathering gentle kisses over the bite mark he had left, "I'll speak to her later, once things settle down..."

"You ought to. As much as I enjoy this, and I _do_ enjoy this... You need to let her know how much she worried you this past moon." Shamir hated to be so stern with him, especially when she was fully relishing in how his touch made her feel and how much it made her want him, but she knew it was only a momentary bandage over a broken limb. He was hiding himself from his sister, choosing instead to indulge in her for comfort and safety, and while she fully understood why he was holding himself back... He couldn't do so forever. And she couldn't continue to reap the benefits of his fear, either. It simply wasn't right of her. "The prince can have her every other night, but you've known her longer. He can miss her for one while you reconnect."

"So you've watched as closely as I have, huh?"

Shamir pulled a face, not entirely sure if she liked his tone, or the implication... yet she couldn't entirely deny the fact that she _had_ been watching. Almost everyone had, though most had the grace to look away at least when it came to the more intimate comings and goings of their professor and prince. Shamir however hadn't felt that such grace was needed, and she knew full well more nights than not that the two were sharing her quarters. She wouldn't admit she entirely approved, but they were both adults, and it wasn't as if she had any right to interfere with their relationship, as such as it was. And she shook her head, leaning back against the wall as she glanced up to her own lover to meet his half-amused navy stare before she answered honestly, "Of course I have. I may not be one of her students, but she's always treated me well, and fairly. I'm as fond of her as most here are, and I worried with the rest of them after Grondor... I wasn't about to quit worrying, just because she was up and about."

Warin bit the inside of his cheek to fight a smile, and he rested his weight on his arm as he leaned against the wall to spare her from his pin for the moment as they took the time to talk in the privacy of the stairwell. Even from where they were they could clearly hear the cheers and the shouts, and he could well imagine just how vexing and discomforting it had to be for the prince. He admitted, somewhat vindictively, that he hoped it lasted, that Dimitri continued to feel the weight of his burden and all that came with it for awhile longer, though he knew such thoughts would likely get him chastised harshly by his sister. It made him question, though he knew it wasn't entirely fair of him to do so, "Do you approve?"

"If it makes her happy, I suppose I do. It isn't as if I have a right to tell her what she can or can't do with herself. She knows full well what we're doing, and never once has she made a hint about it." Shamir pointed out wryly, and the rueful look on her lover's face only made her sigh. They both knew that Raine's eye was keen, and she had to have noticed their behaviour despite all attempts to not show anything outside of the bedroom. They couldn't always help themselves, and even if they had been perfect... The battlefield was a hellish and hectic place, where emotions ran high, and even they, as practised as they were, couldn't keep a calm head one hundred percent of the time. "I don't wish to hypocritical... Nor do I wish to turn things about, considering how much progress has been made since she woke. And say what you will, as small as it looks, but she has improved, and it's incredibly relieving."

"I've seen it. I know." Warin admitted with a nod, but still some dark, vicious part of him wished that it wasn't so. It was selfish and cruel of him, angry and bitter, but there was no denying that his sister had grown healthier in the past several weeks that she had been with Dimitri constantly at her side. He had coaxed her out of her quarters and back into the thick of things in the monastery, and side by side, they were once again taking their places as the commander's leader and prince respectively inside of the rebellion. It was a good change, as small as it was, but still... It had to be _him._ Despite all the pain he had inflicted on her, directly and indirectly, it was him who was healing her now, and bringing back her smile when he had been the one to take it away in the first place. "I'd still love to draw and quarter the dastard, but... I can't find it in me to do it. I've seen what you've seen... and I know Raine. For better or worse, it's him she chose. I can't, and I won't, interfere with that."

"Even though you hate it with every fibre of your being. You're a better soul than I. I'd beat him over the head on principle, but he's doing it well enough without my input. That's the only reason he's given me to stay." Shamir noted with a shake of her head, but the acid in her voice fell flat as Warin watched her with quiet, longing eyes. She reached up to touch his cheek, fingers dragging south to caress the long scar on his throat before she continued, "Regardless of him... You still need to speak with her. I understand why you've kept your distance, she needed the time to heal and decompress, but she's as stable as she ever will be now... You, on the other hand, are not."

"Have I been that much of an annoyance to you?" Warin asked half-jokingly, but he felt the pulse of concern even as Shamir's fingers rapped his cheek reproachfully at the question. Her violet eyes hardened, looking at him sharply for daring to question her emotions when it concerned him, and he closed his eyes, surrendering his weight to embrace her gently in apology. She took it after a moment, curling her arms about his waist again, and he nestled his face against her hair, breathing in that sharp, refreshing scent of pine resin and leather before he sighed, "I will speak to her, I promise... I know I should have earlier, but... Seeing her like that in Grondor, and then afterwards, in the infirmary..."

He didn't need to finish his sentence, and Shamir tightened her hold on him comfortingly as she knew where his thoughts were taking him. Five years later, and the loss of his father still stung as if it had happened yesterday. He tried not to dwell, and he performed his duties in mourning as often as he could, and now more often than not with her beside him, but it did not lessen his pain. He has lost his mother and his father, and his sister was all he had left. To narrowly lose her, and to see her in the worst of it, dangling by a mere thread... It had taken a harsh toll on him. Only his love for her, his love and concern for breaking her further, had kept him from reaching out before she was well. Now, he had no excuse save his pride, and it was not a good enough excuse to continue to delay. "You know full well she loves you. And you also know she won't judge you for your worry."

"She may for my anger."

The hoarsely muttered words in her neck made her smile ruefully, but she couldn't quite help herself as she reached to stroke her fingers once more through his hair comfortingly. She understood, but... She also could not quite entirely blame his sister if she did decide to judge him for his anger. After all, if the positions had been reversed... Would she have been able to stand idly by? Would _he_? She knew the answer, and she knew he knew it, too. It made her squeeze him closer, just for a moment, before she reminded him gently, "If she does, that's her right. As long as you remember that, then you're free to feel as you wish. She'll understand that much. She's a good woman, and she loves you. You can bicker all you like about it, but don't be hypocritical, and you two will reach an accord easily enough."

Warin pressed another soft kiss to her neck, lingering for a moment before he finally drew away and looked down at her expression. She was watching him with soft eyes, her concern readily apparent, but also tinged with earnest affection. It was only during moments like these, stolen between the two of them, that he got a chance to see her without her guard up. That, he knew, though, was his own fault. They were too practised at professionalism, and it wasn't easy to break. It didn't help that he still was so damned possessive of her, either. He sighed again, his thumbs rubbing idle circles into her hips before he promised quietly, "I'll speak to her, once things settle down... We'll be here in Fhirdiad likely a few days. I'll have plenty of opportunities without being a bother."

"If you think she'll find you a bother, you've sorely lost touch with her." Shamir remarked with a roll of her eyes, but her voice was still kind as she watched him watching her. He knew everything she was saying was right, and he wasn't making an effort to deny her. He was simply tired of the facade, and also wary of the conversation to come. It was his right to be, all things considered, which she supposed was why she hadn't taken him to task until now over it. He had been a broken man after all of the anger had gone out of him, broken and fearful and shaken, and she hadn't wanted to make it worse while his sister healed. Even after her waking, she still needed time to settle and re-adjust, and her new relationship with the prince made Warin even more cautious about where to place his feet. He was doing his best to give his sister her space and his respect... but he couldn't do it forever. "Give it another day or two, while this place is cleaned up and things are sorted. When the celebrations start, you'll have your window of opportunity."

Warin almost chuckled, and he wondered why he hadn't considered that the rebellion's success would of course provoke a wild celebration when combined with the future king's return. Of course, all questions of coronations and formality were still likely far beyond them, but having secured a foothold back in their homeland... It made sense that for once, their victory could be savoured and celebrated, for the living and for the dead. He shook his head idly, reaching up to caress Shamir's cheek as he mused, "All that time with everyone prancing about and getting drunk, and I'll be missing out on hiding away with you. You won't mind waiting for me, will you?"

"Catherine will shake me down once she gets a spare moment. She's caught our scent, and she's been dying for a chance to corner me for the past several days. The march and the fighting is the only reason I haven't been pinned to a wall yet." Shamir answered with a laugh, and Warin's face, a look of surprise and fear, didn't do her any favours for her amusement. It was true that she and her partner had long since reconciled over their differences between their duties and faith and friendship, but they all were aware that she and Warin would likely never truly get along. That, of course, was not of concern to Shamir, but it was obvious Warin considered it something to be worried about, and she couldn't stop herself from snickering as she remarked, "Don't look so afraid, or she'll be after you next. The woman can smell fright. She's not about to go threatening you, as much as I know she'd love to. She may not like you, but she respects you as a soldier. And you can say the same, yeah?"

"Of course." Warin's agreement came readily and honestly, and there was no trace of a lie in his sharp navy eyes as she looked to him expectantly. While he had always been careful to avoid stepping his foot into any sort of conflict between the women, and he had tempered himself about Catherine out of respect for Shamir... It was still true that all personal differences aside that Catherine was a true soldier, and she well deserved her Relic, and her title. No amount of differences of faith or loyalty would ever make him belittle her as a warrior. It simply was not his way. Still... He did allow for more honestly than likely was wise as he admitted somewhat wryly, "I suppose my only worry is that she wouldn't approve. But, I know you. You don't ask for approval."

"No, I don't. But Catherine also knows me, so she won't be giving approval. She simply wants me to acknowledge you to her. Which is fair enough, considering all we've been through. She's still my partner, even if we will eventually be parting ways someday." Shamir replied honestly, and she mused that the thought was a bittersweet one, which she had not expected. Five years ago, when things had been so tense, she hadn't considered that her attachments to Fódlan would one day make her wish to stay instead of keeping to her feet as she had all her life. Now... She had grown fond of this place and its people, even if it was not hers to claim. But that was a topic for another day, long, long in the future, and she shrugged as she added, "And regardless, this gives me a chance to get a few jabs in about Seteth. She can have a taste of her own medicine if she wants to drag me through the mud for a laugh."

"I'm keeping my nose far out of that one. I'll stay somewhere with Alois and listen to him crack bad jokes all night before I even so much as think as glancing your way if that's how you intend to go about it." Warin raised his hands in supplication as he shook his head, and the sound of Shamir laughing at him brought a smile to his face. He felt lighter than he had in weeks... Perhaps moons, even. He leaned down just once more, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head before he sighed, "We should be getting back before someone comes looking."

"Another minute." Shamir disagreed, and she reached for his collar, pulling him down slightly before capturing his lips with her own in a proper kiss. He surrendered immediately, and she could not help but smile as his strong arms drew her back into his chest, pulling her as close as he could as they again stole a moment in the darkness of the stairwell. Her fingers combed gently through his hair, stroking, caressing as he nipped her lower lip to deepen the embrace. It was risky, to keep him here, but... She didn't mind the gamble, especially when the payoff was so sweet. She was as selfish as he was at times, not wishing to share what they had, even with those she was close with, and for as long as she could, she wanted to savour him being hers and hers alone. They were permitted that much, after all they'd done and been through, weren't they?

"I love you."

"Mm... I love you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> No real AN to speak of this update. A bit of drama happening on FFN where I usually post, which doesn't apply here, thankfully. Though, I suppose I should say that as of late, I've really come to appreciate how kind and open the community on A03 is. I know 3H is a pretty damn divisive game for Fire Emblem, but I've only been met with kindness and honesty since I've started posting my series here. There's been no shortage of nice words and kind gestures, and I like it very much over the usual behaviour I've come to expect from FFN. Not to exactly bash on my homeland (since that's where everything started for me, fourteen years ago), but, well... The community here is a nice breath of fresh air. A bit more mature, perhaps.
> 
> So, I guess, this AN is my thank-you. To all the readers, the people who leave kudos, anonymous or no, and the commenters. Every single one of you has made my experience transitioning to this website a very warm and welcome one. I feel at home on A03, and I genuinely enjoy posting here. I hope to continue that in the future. If I'm ever to abandon FFN, I know I have somewhere safe to continue my joy and passion, and that is a heavy relief on my shoulders. Thank you guys so much for taking me in and making me feel welcome. I hope my chapters can be enough for you in return! 
> 
> ~ Sky


	17. Blankets of Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: Family, Hurt/Comfort, Mourning, Angst. (T)
> 
> Characters: Warin, Raine, Dimitri.
> 
> Summary: It had been awhile, perhaps too long, since they had had a chance to sit together and speak frankly. And both had much to say, after the previous moon. Much had changed, and there was much they had not been able to tell one another... Family was everything. It would always be everything, no matter how many moons passed, and how much they grew, or with who they grew. That they knew and held close to the chest, now that they were all they had in terms of family, and it was time to reaffirm it, after all that had happened between them after the battle at Grondor Fields.

**Garland Moon**

**Fhirdiad (Castle Balcony)**

**Nightfall**

The castle behind her was a din of noise, laughter, music and other celebratory noises, but it was all at Raine's back as she stood quiet and alone at the balcony, looking out at the castle's surroundings as a fresh blanket of snow covered everything her eyes could see. Sometime during the day the first white flakes had begun to fall, but she had been too busy with work to have gotten a good chance to see it for herself. Now, taking a chance to slip away from the celebrating of both her men and the allied nobility, Raine tilted her head back, allowing for the snow to fall onto her face and savouring every little sharp pinprick of cold. She hadn't fully believed her students at first when they had told her of their icy and snow-covered home, as she had never been far enough north herself to see it, and she mused that she owed them all an apology later.

It was an absolutely beautiful sight, even in the flickering firelight lamps that lit up the castle grounds. The white expanse seemed to go on forever, covering housetop and street alike far into the city, and she wondered what the countryside had to look like underneath the snow. For miles it had to stretch, fresh and unbroken white on white, and even in the midst of the war, she couldn't help but find it all to be so peaceful. The snow made everything quiet, calm, and as it continued to fall down in lazy spirals, she wondered how high it would pile up before morning, and what would be done to remove it to make travel through the streets less of a challenge.

Leaning on the balcony, Raine savoured the quiet as she closed her eyes against the sounds of the feasting coming from behind the closed doors. Though the castle was beautiful in its own way, after being stripped of all its Dukedom trappings and returned to its former glory, she still couldn't stand being in the centre of the crowd. She still had work to do, planning for the travel to Derdriu after Claude's coded message and the taking of the Silver Maiden, once her troops had time to rest and regroup, but she knew the need for rest was paramount, especially now. If she was to be caught bending over a map, or with her nose in a book, especially tonight of all nights, she could well imagine the scolding that she would get. She had no wish for it, especially considering how many drunkards were currently filling the ballroom... Though, she mused with a small smile, that if anyone deserved a chance to cut loose, it was the men and women she had been fighting alongside for the last several moons.

It had been a magnificent homecoming, for both her students and for Dimitri, though he had been taken aback at the clear support his people had given him on his return. He had done his level best to appear calm and in control, to accept it with grace, but she had spied his tears of awe and relief, and reminded him gently that it was all right to let go. She hadn't seen him since he had slipped free of the party, once the cleaning of the streets and castle had finished and the celebrating had begun, but she knew better than to look. He was home, and it had been almost six years since he had last been. He needed time and space, and she was happy to give it to him, knowing eventually he would return to her side when he was ready. There was likely much running through his mind now, much he wanted and needed to do, and unless asked, she had no intention of getting in his way and stopping him.

"You'll catch your death out here if you linger too long, you know. Is the party too loud for you?"

Her brother's voice made her smile, and she turned slightly to watch him carefully ducking out between the doors, his hands carrying a large pint each as he made his way to the balcony beside her. She moved a little to the left to give him room to join her, watching with raised eyebrows at the little twist of steam that escaped the top of the tankards he was carrying. He handed one to her, resting his own on the top of the thick railing, and though she didn't admit it, as her fingers curled around the large drink to feel its warmth, she was glad to see him, as well as his offering. She answered as she glanced down into the golden liquid inside of the tankard curiously, "I just needed a small break from the noise, that's all. I'll be back inside to be tossed about like a party favour once I've caught my breath... Now, what exactly did you bring me?"

"Hot cider. Apparently a Faerghus speciality against cold nights. Don't worry, there's not a drop of alcohol in it, so drink your fill. It'll keep you warm." Warin answered, and to demonstrate, he took a large swig himself and let out a long, satisfied breath as he did so. It had a sharp taste, sweet and honeyed with apples and other ingredients local to the city, and he could well imagine how the drink had gained its popularity. It kept the body warm without needing the sting of alcohol to carry it, and as Raine took an experimental sip, then smiled broadly at the taste, he was glad to see she shared a similar like. Her hands tightened around the warm glass, warming up her cold fingers, and he rested his elbows on the railing as he mused, "You've never been this far north before, have you? Father never took you into Fhirdiad. How are you liking the northlands?"

"They're beautiful... but I can see why Father kept me at camp while the two of you went north whenever you had dealings with the nobility here. It's a cold land. Treacherous to those who don't know it." Raine answered honesty, and again her eyes swept out over the grounds, taking in the snow and wondering if she would have been able to appreciate the sight before her in her youth. She doubted it. She had seen snow before, but never in such a vast quantity, and she had never really cared for it. It was difficult to travel through, even harder to fight in, and all of the layers of clothing needed to stay warm in such a hostile environment had always been an annoyance. Now, with age and experience, and fresh new eyes... Raine could appreciate the beauty in the danger, and she was glad that her first experience with Faerghus was now, and not in her childhood when she hadn't known her emotions enough to form anything beyond opinions based solely on pragmatism. "The people here a hardy folk to live here year round, if this is what they have to put up with. I'm starting to understand why my students are the way they are, now that I've been here myself."

"Fhirdiad was a beautiful city when we were here last. Father always said he preferred dealing with the nobility in the Kingdom over those in the Alliance or the Empire. Though, if you ask me, I'm pretty sure it's because they brew better ale here." Warin remarked, and he took another long swig as he imagined the cider in his hand peppered with alcohol. It was already a good, strong drink of its own merits, and adding alcohol to it would make for any mercenary happy to brave the northern cold if it meant filling their flask freely. His father had been that exact type, and it made him chuckle as he added, "There is an alcoholic version of this floating about the party, but I figured you might appreciate something more easy to go down. You're still banned from drinking, aren't you?"

"Not necessarily banned, but Mercedes hinted she wouldn't be pleased with me if she caught me visiting the tavern until well after next moon." Raine replied with a small laugh of her own, and she was planning to keep to the warning and stay completely dry until she was given explicit permission to indulge in the mercenary's worst vice. It was a cautionary advisory more than a demand, she knew, simply because of how much weight she had lost over the past few moons, and until she had put most of it back on, drinking simply was not wise. Her tolerance had always been excellent, it had to be if she was to earn the respect of any mercenary serving alongside her father, but she was a weaker woman now. She had to take better care of herself, and if it meant avoiding drinking for a little while... She could go without. "I am however recovering well, if my last visit to Flayn meant anything. My sword arm is as good as it used to be, and I'm not as easily tired as I was... but I don't blame Mercedes for being overly cautious. Felix tells me he had to literally carry her off sometimes from the infirmary to make her rest rather than worrying over me."

Warin smirked into his drink, and he silently toasted the young son of Rodrigue for his brass in taking Mercedes of all women to task for not caring for herself. Even Annette had been reduced to worriedly hovering and commenting, and she never dared to go against the healer of the Blue Lions. Felix had the courage of a bear if he was willing to get physical in stopping Mercedes from overworking herself, and even though the young man grated on him, he could and would respect his commitment to the woman. Still, the topic sobered him as quickly as dunking his head in a trough would, and he set his tankard down before glancing sidelong at his sister and asking, "And your wound? Does it still pain you?"

"Only on the dreary days. The rain makes me ache, but not so much that it's a hindrance to my swordplay... The snow, somehow, doesn't seem to bother me much in comparison." Raine answered, and absently, she reached over her shoulder thoughtlessly to rub through the thick fabric of her cloak and shirt to feel the mark that she didn't doubt she would carry throughout the rest of her life. So much magic had been poured into her body that any pain at all surprised her, but she knew that was simply the way the body worked. Healing magic relied on as much as the caster's strength as it did the patient's will and usual health, and hers had been incredibly weak at the time of her coma. It made sense that the scar would never vanish, and that she would be haunted by flickers of pain every so often, but she had made her peace with that. "I'm told the scar won't heal over, but that's not much of a bother to me... It's not as if a mercenary gets by on looks. Wasn't that what Father always said?"

"He meant that in concern to himself... and also to the men. Not the women." Warin corrected her, and he didn't smile when his sister looked to him sharply in reproach for the comment pertaining to her sex. She had made a point to never be judged by her gender amongst the mercenaries she had fought alongside, and Warin had always been the most cautious of that when it had begun to be a problem. It was true enough that she was a woman, but she had met enough female mercenaries to know that gender meant nothing on the field of battle. It was only skill and strength and speed that mattered, and anyone, man, woman, and even children, could prove themselves capable or useful if they put themselves to the task. Yet, knowing all this, he had made the comment all the same, and her eyes narrowed on him, but he didn't look remorseful as he continued quietly, "Father wouldn't have wanted you scarred. I... didn't want you scarred."

The confession took all of the wind from her sails, leaving her quiet and wary as he sighed and looked off into the distance without truly focussing on anything in front of him. His body was slumped over the railing, the tankard idly being swirled in his hand, but his expression was incredibly sombre. His eyes were distant, quiet, pained, and it made Raine take pause. She had dreaded this conversation, as she knew exactly where it was heading, and yet... She knew it had to happen. Warin was not a man who took to words easily, even if he could rip apart most with his tongue as well as his lance or gauntlets, and he had been shockingly merciful in sparing her from the lashing she had expected to get for her actions in Grondor.

Their meeting, brief as it was in the infirmary, had been professional and quiet, with him telling her all he knew she wanted to know, and leaving her only with a warning to listen to her healers lest he be called back to restrain her. He hadn't said anything to her since of Grondor or of her wounds, as if he was tiptoeing about the subject she knew was clearly always on the tip of his tongue whenever they were alone, and she had wondered what was holding him back. Her brother never gave quarter to anyone, not even her, and yet now... He reminded her much of Dimitri, timid and cautious, and she bit her lip as she decided it was best she never say such a thing aloud to keep her own self safe, and to spare their pride from the commonality between them.

Now, however, he had broached the topic as gently as he possibly could, and even if it sounded and looked as awkward as a fish flopping about on land... Raine was well aware she owed him answers to the multitude of questions and accusations that he likely had to have. She let out a breath of her own, watching the breeze carry away the mist as soon as it left her lips, and she likewise crossed her arms and bent over the railing to join him, though her eyes remained firmly fixed on her brother's face. She spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully, lest she prick his temper, or say something she did not entirely mean as she began, "I'm aware you've always wanted to protect me, since what happened five years ago. And... I'm aware that... I broke a promise to you, that day in Grondor. However, I... I can't say that I'm sorry for my actions. What I did, I'd do again. What happened afterwards... I didn't want to hurt you, or cause you distress... but I'm aware that I did. I'm sorry for that, at least. For believing that... You'd be all right, if I was gone."

"You really don't believe you have any worth, do you?" The question was cutting, but Warin's tone was tired, disappointed, as he looked around to his sister. She winced and looked away almost immediately, her eyes looking to the ground with guilt written all over her face, but he knew it had to be said. He had seen her face, just as Dimitri had. That damned peaceful, relieved expression when she had been laying bloody and limp on the ground, and it had both horrified and infuriated him at the moment. Now, however... All he felt was sadness, a deep, mournful sense of regret and sadness to know that she had been broken so thoroughly to believe such a thing of herself. In so many ways she had grown since they had entered Garreg Mach... and in as many ways, she had regressed. "Back when we were young, I suppose you didn't ever consider the idea that life would be easier without you. You didn't think of things in such broad strokes. You were always focussed on the here and now, rarely looking to the future, and even less to the past, unless you were trying to better yourself and your skills. Now, your eyes are always fixed on the horizon... and you fail to see the eyes fixed on you."

"Believe me, I'm well aware of the eyes fixed on me. It's a burden I'd gladly love to shove into someone else's arms." Raine remarked with a bitter laugh, but it was merely a sidestep to the topic that Warin was pushing on her. Still, she could not quite help herself, especially when only recently had she felt that horrid weight loosening its stranglehold on her body. Dimitri had been true to his word, and had taken more than half of her assigned tasks into his own hands, and it had lightened her load greatly. She worried over him, over his steep learning curve, but he never complained, and only rarely interrupted her work to ask aid if he was well and truly stuck. She appreciated his earnestness as much as it exasperated her, and she shook her head as she muttered under her breath, "It's grown easier, I'll admit that much, but it's still a burden I never asked for. I'm only glad that now I can do as I please in the open, and not act like some puppetmaster in the shadows. It was disgusting, acting underneath the noses of people I was leading and meant to trust. I hated every moment of it, and I'll continue to hate it until the day I die."

Warin admitted that it was fair of her to say so, and she had already voiced her frustrations over the course she had been forced to take in order to see her ideas realized, but she was wandering away from the point he wished to make. He pulled her back in firmly, his voice brooking no nonsense as he repeated himself, "Still, you seem to think that the world will keep revolving without you... and you're wrong. This rebellion can't continue if you fall. Nor can your students. Nor can I. I know you think little of yourself, and even less of the impact you have on your brats, but you're doing yourself, and them, a grave disservice if you believe they've all outgrown you just because you were gone for five years. Without you there to keep them in line, they fell quickly to anarchy after Grondor. You hate the pressure and the responsibility, and you're right to, as no one asked you for your opinion when you were made to lead, but the point remains... Your influence holds your students together. It keeps me sane. We cannot go on without you."

Raine was silent, feeling the words hitting like blows, but she couldn't for the life of her find a fitting reply. It reminded her too much of her knee-jerk reaction to break down in tears when Dimitri had claimed her existence as his reason for living, and it made her shiver reflexively. It was not as if she didn't wish to be so important to Dimitri, or to her brother, or her students. That was not it at all. She loved them, each in their own ways, and only wanted the best for them... She had simply never considered that her well-being, her living, was such an integral part of allowing them happiness and giving them peace.

Warin took her silence as permission to continue, as he did so without delay or preamble. The dam within his chest had broken, and it made his emotions flood, but he worked hard at keeping them at a somewhat steady flow rather than allowing them to pour out wildly. It would do her and him no good if he was to succumb thoughtlessly to them, and that kept his voice measured and somewhat calm as he spoke quietly, "I won't chastise you for breaking your promise... I won't do it because had I been in your shoes, and it had been Shamir and not Dimitri I was saving... I would have done the same, without hesitation or thought. It's simply how it is. To put you to task over it would make me a hypocrite, and so I'll leave that matter where it is... but the one thing I can't abide is how easily you believe we can put you behind us, and move forward. You must remember your life has value, even if you don't think so. I know you know you're loved. Your students would kill, and die, for you. You know that. So what is it that makes you think you can die for them, and it wouldn't hurt them as sorely as it would hurt you, if it was one of them taking your place?"

Raine bit her lower lip, but she knew she had no answers for him. At least, none that would truly satisfy him. It was difficult, placing herself anywhere in a position that gave herself merit. A leader she was, not by choice, but it made no difference, just as it had when she was a professor. She had approached leadership the same way she had approached teaching, to give it all she had simply because that was how she did things. If she was to be given this mantle, she would wear it as well as she could until she no longer had to. Eventually, the weight had become too much, and things had become too muddy. To keep them alive was paramount. Herself? Herself no longer mattered. "I don't know, Warin. Truly, I don't... Teaching opened me to things I didn't realize I could feel. To things I didn't realize I could do, or want, or need... and then, it was gone, and I was taking up a much larger burden instead. I had no time to adjust. No time to think, just to react... and I reacted poorly. Somewhere along the way, I think I... just simply started drowning, and I stopped trying to claw for the surface. I was _so tired_ of kicking and screaming and fighting the current. I guess I just... thought it'd be easier to sink."

Warin exhaled deeply through his nose, trying not to let his face register the lance of agony that pierced through his chest at her words. He had seen it. He had known it for what it was... and he had done nothing to help her. No one had, even if they had whispered, had worried and fretted amongst themselves. She had put up a brave front physically, but mentally, she had been an open book to all of them. She did not wear her masks as well as she thought she did. Not any longer. He didn't know if that pleased or hurt him, and he was aware that would torment him for ages, but he soldiered on regardless, "I'm aware you had those thoughts... and I'll own up to doing absolutely nothing to help you, likely when you needed me most. I failed you as an older brother, and no amount of apologies will make that okay. I just... I need you to understand just how much you living truly means. Even if it takes you a decade, by the flames, take three or four of them if you must, but... Please, understand that some of us simply can't survive losing you. And I'm one of them."

Raine felt her eyes sting, and she sniffled despite herself as she raised a hand to rub at the sharp pain to make the tears disappear before they could overflow. She felt guilt and anger and shame, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out where it was being directed. Part of her wondered if he knew he was utilizing guilt as a weapon, but another already warned her that Warin was far and above using such petty tactics. He was being sincere. Any side-effects of that earnestness were accidents, and never intentional. He never aimed to hurt, even if his words were sharp. He was kinder than most knew, and it made her ache as she mumbled through her sleeve, "You didn't fail me, Warin... Hands were always there for me to reach for, but I never tried to grasp them. That's my own fault. I can't promise you that I'll be able to... think of myself as important, not right away, but... I can try. I can try my best."

Warin reached over, carefully encircling his arm around his sister's shoulders to draw her close, and she came willingly and without comment. She nestled against his side, happy for the embrace and the comfort he offered, and he sighed as he turned his head to press a kiss to the top of her own. It felt good to feel her against him, to see her strong and solid and healthy, though he still felt a pang of pain deep in his heart all the same. It brought a wry smile to his face, and he couldn't stop himself as he squeezed her gently and remarked ruefully, "I imagine the princeling will be able to help with that."

"Of _course_ you know..."

The immediate response came in a groan, and Warin felt his lips pull into a smirk as his sister's face fell into her hands so she didn't need to show him her expression. She didn't have to, as he could imagine the shame and embarrassment and awkwardness, and it made him want to laugh despite the rawness in his chest and throat and eyes. She slumped against him, whether it was theatrics or genuine exhausted embarrassment he didn't know, but he didn't care as he supported her easily and explained frankly, "Yes, of course I know. Raine, I knew five years ago. _Father_ knew. That's how blatant it was. Now, mind you, I'm aware you're only acting on it now, but the fact remains. And no, I'm not scolding you for it. I admit, I'm still not entirely pleased with him, but that's my problem, and not yours. What you do with your life, who you let into your bed, none of that is my business unless it hurts you. And I've seen no evidence of that."

Raine peeked through her fingers as she listened intently to his words, and she swore she could see steam rising from her cheeks from the amount of heat that was coursing through her face. Still... A great part of her felt much lighter, hearing her brother say so matter-of-factly that he was not about to intervene or comment negatively on her relationship with Dimitri. She had not expected him to be happy about it, and he was blunt in saying he wasn't, but he still was respecting her choices all the same. He loved her enough, respected her enough, to back away and swallow his pride, which they both knew was his cardinal sin, in order to let her be happy. It brought a smile to her lips, and she leaned in against his chest as she asked half-jokingly, "Is that your way of giving me your approval?"

"If that's what you want to call it... Perhaps." Warin allowed with a long-suffering exhale through his nose, but his smile hadn't faded as his sister looked up at him with mischievous affection shining in her seafoam-green coloured eyes. It made him relax, reminded him of better, lighter times, and he hugged her just a little bit closer before releasing her as he explained what he had seen for her bluntly, "Look, you were sick long before Grondor. We all knew it, and we all saw it. Secluding yourself in your room, training at late hours, refusing to eat with the others because you had so much else to attend to... and ever since you and Dimitri made amends, or began whatever it is you two are doing, your behaviour has taken a change for the better. I know full well it's his influence. I've seen him escorting you on your rounds, taking paperwork from your hands, and sitting with you in the dining hall with the others. You're sleeping well. You're gaining weight. Your eyes are alive again. If that's his doing, and I know that it is... Then how can I _not_ approve of him? It isn't as if anyone else is capable of giving you what you need. I may want to punch him in the throat still, but that's my business. He's treating you well now. That's enough."

"Even if you did punch him, I'm afraid it'd do the two of you no good. You can't punish him any more than he's punishing himself." Raine sighed with a shake of her head, and her chest constricted tightly at the thought of violence breaking out between the two men she loved the most. She could understand it, and she already knew it had come dangerously close to happening. Dimitri had kept nothing from her once they had spoken at length and shared a bed. He told her everything just as she had told him all, and she was well aware her brother was the only thing that had stopped him from making a suicidal march to Enbarr not long after she had been declared stable. Dimitri had expressed his gratitude for it, for his harsh words and damning accusations, but he still felt too much shame to say the words to Warin himself. "I know that the two of you have to work out your differences yourselves, and I won't try to get in the way, but... I hope you believe me when I tell you that he's already condemned himself more harshly than anyone else ever will. He may be on the way to being the man he once was, that he wants to be, but even when he gets there, he doesn't believe it'll change anything in the end. He fully believes he'll find the flames awaiting him once he dies, and he's embraced it fully as a part of his repentance."

"So long as he isn't rushing head-first into death's arms, whatever _he_ believes awaits him in the afterlife is of no consequence." Warin dismissed the words with a shake of his head, and he returned to his cider and took a long draught of the spiced drink even though it had long since lost its warmth. Raine was watching him closely, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and worry, and he looked back to her as he continued firmly, "It's what you do with you life here and now that lands you where you deserve to be in the afterlife, no? Is that not the Church's teachings? Five years of living as a monster, four more chasing vengeance... That's not enough to consign him to the flames. Not as long as he works every day of his remaining life to bettering the world about him. He's earnest enough about that, isn't he?"

"He is." Raine answered immediately and with absolute certainty, and her body stiffened in instinctive defiance to any idea of the opposite being assumed of him. She had seen it herself, and heard it, especially when he had thought she wasn't listening. She had already overheard him speaking several times to Ferdinand, the two nobles deep in conversation and thought of how to best pull the Empire out of the rubble that had buried them once Edelgard was out of the way, and that alone had been enough concrete evidence that the monster he thought he was was simply no more. The Dimitri she had met again after her five year slumber would have never thought of the Empire's well-being. "He isn't interested in conquering, or death, or vengeance... He just wants the truth. The honest truth about what happened to his family in Duscur, and after that... What's best for the people. Both in his homeland, and in the Empire and Alliance. He cares for Fódlan, and he wants to see it heal, and not only recover, but better itself for everyone who calls it home. I want that, too. So long as he continues to walk a path that will see that future become a reality... I intend to stand beside him."

"Then he's not bound for the flames when he dies. Even if he fails to make it happen, should he put in the effort, he'll find himself somewhere better when his time comes. Actions and intent are what you're judged upon. He spent a near decade as a beast, but what's a decade to the rest of his life?" Warin shrugged idly, feeling both completely confident in his words, and yet somewhat ill at ease with himself as he spoke them. He, like his sister, was not a believer in the Church of Seiros. From what he now knew of Sothis, he doubted she was even truly a goddess, if she could and had died. A true god _could not_ die. It went against the very definition of godhood. But an afterlife went beyond the realms of the Church of Seiros. It was something that bound many cultures, almost all of them, throughout the history of man... He could reject the church, but he could not entirely reject the concept of a world after death. He wasn't sure if he wanted to. It raised far too many questions he could not answer, and that had never sat well with him. "We've all committed our fair share of sins... No one goes through life with completely clean hands. Especially when war is raging. I may not believe in the Church of Seiros, or any of its teachings, but if there is an afterlife, and there is something that will judge you for your acts when you die... I'd like to believe that neither you, or Dimitri, are bound for punishment for what you've done."

Raine smiled, wondering where such philosophical musings had come from, and musing herself that perhaps Shamir had had more of an impact on him than she had initially assumed. Still, she had noticed that he had not spoken of himself, and she gently nudged her elbow into his ribs as she reminded him gently, "If that's the case, then I believe the same should be said for you. You ran for five years, and had to resort to terrible things to survive, too... but never once did you do so with malice, and I know full well it still haunts you, even today. Shamir's gentled your edges, and I'm glad for that. I never knew what to say to you that you likely hadn't said yourself... but Shamir has a sharper tongue than I do, and a lot less concern for your feelings, even if she has your best interests at heart deep down. I'm not much like her in that."

"She's... been a great balm to me. I can say that honestly... I don't know where I'd be without her." Warin admitted with a nod, and he idly reached for the chain he was still wearing around his neck, even if the ring was no longer there to rest against his chest. It was at home on her hand, where it belonged, but he still felt himself reaching for it whenever he thought of her. It was habit now, and he had to remind himself to drop his hand as he looked to Raine's kind smile and continued honestly, "I gave her Mother's ring... We've promised to make no plans, until this war ends, but... I wanted to show my sincerity. We can't marry, not with the war raging and with all of the risks, but... As it is, we may as well be, and that gives me comfort. _She_ gives me comfort. Something I never asked for, but something she gave, all the same. It's... just like Father always said it would be. I love her with all my being. And that's why I won't judge you for Dimitri. You feel for him the same way I feel for her. That's real. And I can't judge anyone who is that single-mindedly devoted to another. And damn me for it, but he loves you the same way."

"He does... I can say that with certainty, as... embarrassing as it sounds. And honestly, the only reason why I can listen to what you're saying now, and do what you're asking of me, is because Dimitri said similar things to me already." Raine confessed with a shy, pained smile, and she rubbed awkwardly at her nose as the warmth in her cheeks heated more strongly at the reminder of his declaration. To say her existence had saved him... had given him reason to live... It had been so humbling, and so painful all at once. She adored him with every ounce of her being. To make him hurt by neglecting herself, by dying, was unthinkable. It was not for herself, it was solely for him, but... It still was a step in a direction she knew she needed to take. "He... called me his reason for living. After hearing something like that... I can't very well think of throwing my life away so easily, can I?"

"It's good he cares that much for you. It makes me want to punch him less."

"Be careful, Brother, or I might start to think you're jealous, and not overprotective."

"Shut up..."

* * *

The cemetery was cold. A stiff, chill breeze blew through the long stretch of land, with no trees or columns to block it. Instead there were only rows upon rows of graves, silent and grey and snow-covered, all within throwing distance of the castle courtyards. It had been ages since Dimitri had last stood there before them all, but his feet had known the way there all the same without needing any input from his mind. When he had slunk away from the celebrations in the castle, needing the clear air, needing the silence, he had begun to walk aimlessly... It had only been once he crested the hill that led to the graveyard that he had realized where he was taking himself. Only for a moment had he hesitated, looking at his empty hands before back to the garden of headstones, before he had allowed himself to be pulled forward. It was what was expected of him, after his homecoming, and he could not resist the siren's call.

Now, Dimitri found himself standing tall and alone, studying the three graves that lay closest to the entrance, all built lavishly and decorated in true Faerghus fashion for the nobility, and yet he felt smaller than an ant as he gazed down on them in silence. The names of his father, birth-mother and step-mother all stared back at him, and for once, just once in what had seemed like a lifetime... Their voices were silent in his ears. Perhaps it was because he was there, finally seeing them as they were and not the ghosts that had been haunting him due to his guilt, due to his rage, but he did not care one way or the other. The silence was a relief... even if being there, ankle-deep in snow and feeling the cold biting into his skin was anything but.

He had nothing to lay on their graves, as he had come without thinking, but he would rectify that in the morning, when he had time to collect himself and remember proper protocol. His feet had taken him there too quickly and unexpectedly, but he doubted that they would be angered by his lack of a tribute. It had been too long since he had come there at all, and hopefully his presence for now would be enough. He would make up for it, as he would make up for everything else he had done since he had left Faerghus and Fhirdiad long behind him for fear of his life, but for the moment... He wished to be there, to see their names, and pay his respects now long, long overdue.

"I've come home... Father... Step-Mother... I am sorry that it has taken me so long to return." He spoke the words quietly, and the wind took them from his mouth almost as soon as he said them, but it did not matter. He had carefully brushed away the snow, revealing their names and the intricate carvings of crowns and flowers, and the sleek, oblong obelisks of gravestones still made his hand tremble when he touched them. They had not been desecrated, the entire graveyard was as he had remembered it from his youth, and for that, he was grateful. Cornelia had either not cared enough to uproot it, or had known that doing so would have inflamed the hearts of both the nobility and smallfolk alike had they discovered her actions. For that and that only he owed the woman thanks, but he felt a strong clench in his stomach as he looked to his step-mother's grave and reflected on all that had happened in the past several days.

Everywhere he looked, to everyone he spoke... Patricia's hand in the Tragedy of Duscur seemed to be everywhere despite his own misgivings. Even Rodrigue had come clean with his own suspicions, though Gilbert had been quick to remind him that it was only speculation, as Patricia herself was nowhere to be found after what had taken place in the regicide. If she had truly returned to the Empire, would she not be out and about now, free from the shackles of needing to hide now that her daughter was Emperor? Yet there was no sign of her, despite all orders to have left her carriage alone, and his last sight of her having been disappearing into the flames of the wreckage. Had it been a fever dream, from the pain, from the gore and fear and torture? Dimitri could not trust his memory, nor could he trust the murmurings... There was no solid evidence to be found, no matter where he looked. Only whispers, only speculation, and it left him hallow and aching as he wondered.

_"As naive as it sounds, and speaking only for myself... Even if she wished to go home, even if what was said about her desire to see her family was true, that doesn't make her responsible. Those dark-robed mages... They've all proven time and time again they prefer to use people, before they show their hand. Doesn't it make more sense that they would use Patricia's heartsickness to their advantage, before she would turn to murder?"_

Raine's words continued to echo in his head, giving him a small, slim thread of hope to cling to, but he was not sure if it was a poison, or a welcome balm. His memories of his step-mother were so few. Were so painful. Her longing stares out the window, her quiet demeanour, the indignities she had suffered by being taken from the Empire to live in the Kingdom... He had burned for her in outrage, had wished her happiness, had mourned for her... and to be told, from the lips of Cornelia no less, that is was quite possible she had had a hand in the Tragedy, even if it was only as a pawn...

Dimitri sighed raggedly, and ran a tired hand through his hair. It got him nowhere, no matter how many times he ran all the scenarios he could think of through his mind, and it only served to worsen his usual headaches whenever he tried. Raine's words were a string of hope to cling to, and cling to it he did, if only because it was the only thing that could give him peace. To see his step-mother as a victim, as he knew she had been before the Tragedy, was far easier for him to contemplate than it was to imagine her the mastermind. With the additional information that Cornelia had been of Thales' ilk, credence was being given to Raine's theory more than any other. It made sense, at least logically. It fit in with the established pattern... and it made him hate for them, and wish he had not been so damned blind to the truth of everything he had looked away from.

"I will not... hold you responsible until I know for certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt... that what happened that day was your doing. I cannot do it. You were the only mother I ever known, and I will not believe Cornelia's lies that you did not love me." Dimitri heard rather than felt himself speak, though he knew it was nothing but pure selfishness that goaded him on. He had no proof, absolutely none, and yet... It freed him, believing in this, rather than anything else. "I have nothing but my own instincts to go on, and they've proven me wrong many a time before... and if I am wrong about this, so be it, yet... I wish beyond anything, beyond everything, for it to be true. The few who knew you, said I was like you... and, in the end, I know for certain my feelings for you were and always have been real. Perhaps you did hate me. But that would not change the fact that you were the only mother I knew, and the only mother I loved. If that must be enough... I will let it be enough."

His hand tightened unbidden, and he felt the object in palm begin to press warningly against his bare skin. Immediately he released his grasp, opening his fingers to look at the silver band that was thankfully unharmed from his momentary lapse. The emeralds studded into the band were likewise shimmering as they always had, without a crack to be seen, and he allowed himself a relieved breath... After having scoured his quarters for hours, trying to remember where he had put it and fearing it had been stolen during his absence, to find that ring again had been nothing short of a miracle. He did not wish to see it damaged now.

Dimitri could still well remember Lambert giving it to him, with a smile and a gentle pet to the head as he explained it had belonged to his birth mother, and now it was his own to claim until the day came when he took someone to be his queen. He had held onto it after her passing, not wishing to give Patricia a gift that belonged to the dead when she was her own woman with her own past, present and future, and so he had passed it down to his son instead. The young boy he had been had no interest in the bauble despite its importance, as romance and thoughts of brides and weddings and queens had frightened him witless, and so he had hidden it away for a time when an older, more mature man could take it and use it as it was meant to.

He was not quite sure if he was ashamed or amused of his younger self for his fear, and yet as he stroked the ring in his palm and glanced to his father's headstone... He knew it had to be a mixture of both. He was still a boy in spirit, floundering in fear and uncertainty, even if he had long since grown since those days of youth and innocence. His father's words and instructions had fallen on deaf ears then, but he had grown enough to heed them now. It had been what had sent him into such a flurry when he had returned home, remembering the trinket that likely meant nothing to anyone else, but was the world to him now that he was back in Fhirdiad.

He supposed if that made him a fool, then he likely was one. He had been surprised to find his personal quarters undisturbed, even if the castle was so greatly changed. The Dukedom had tried to drape their trappings everywhere, mocking his home and destroying its identity, but the change had only been skin-deep. Cornelia had not made too great of an effort to make the castle her own. She had been too busy with her machinations with the Empire to attend to her vanity, which was another thing he supposed he had to be grateful for. A few days' worth of work, of stripping down banners and tapestries and throwing away propaganda had restored Fhirdiad to its former glory, and it was the reason for the celebration tonight. Their work in the castle and the city had been finished, the dead had been buried and their enemies seen to, and now, with the tension gone... Their spirits were high, and there had been no reason to deny his people when they had asked to celebrate their freedom and their success.

It had made him feel a bit like a villain, sneaking away from the party that was mostly being held in his honour, but he could not help it. The noise, the attention, the congratulations had been too much for him to handle. Hearing his people calling his name that day when the rebellion had freed the city had been difficult enough with the battle fatigue still weighing down his body. Now, well-rested and more settled in his thoughts, he could not quite get away from the discomfort. He knew his people wished him success. He knew they were grateful for his return. Yet, was he worthy of it? Worthy of the pomp and circumstance, their love and adulation, after all he had done? Even if he had returned as their liberator?

A long sigh escaped him, misting up above his head and disappearing on the wind... Raine had told him it was simply a king's welcome, a gleeful festival of freedom and jubilation, and if he did not wish to be there, he did not need to be. She had freed him from staying, offering to cover for him for as long as he wanted, with only the sheepish request that he had least join her sometime before the party ended so she could figure out where she was to sleep for the night. He had given her that promise, grateful for her care and patience, though he knew he didn't deserve that, either. She was an uncomfortable with the attention as he was, as this was their first victory since her healing, and the first true step in pushing back the Empire. Of course her men wished to cheer her on as much as they wanted to call for their future king, but she had remained while he had fled, and he owed her more than an apology for that on his return.

He studied the ring in his hand closely, and unbidden, selfishly, he wondered how it would look on her hand when the time came for him to give it to her. He had decided already, that first night when she had told him she loved him, that it belonged to no one but her. She could reject it if she wished, and he would not mind if she did. Once the war ended, he knew all she wanted was to live a simple, burden-free life, and to ask her to take the mantle of a queen was anything but. It didn't matter that she would have full rights and reason to step back and merely stand quiet and supportive in the shadows rather than rule at his side... She simply was not the type of woman who would take such an easy out, or shrug away from supporting him in the open. She wanted the best for the people she knew and did not know, and she would always work for their betterment. As a queen she would have those opportunities, would have that power... but she would also be bound by tradition and obligation, things that had nearly overwhelmed and killed her. To ask her to take that burden on again when she could have true freedom instead...

Another sigh heaved his shoulders, and he carefully pocketed the ring as he reminded himself that he was getting too far lost in his dreams. The future was so far off. Too far off. Raine had made it clear to him that the war would not end with the fall of the Empire. She wished to pursue Thales and his ilk, wherever and however she could, and she doubted they would fall with the Empire. Their web stretched too wide to be bound solely to Edelgard, and it was clear now to him that she was merely their figurehead. It was true that her dreams and desires were her own, and she was using their power just as much as they were using her status, but still... It was that mage, that cursed mage who had brought down the Tragedy of Duscur, and he wished him dead as sorely as Raine did. The war would not end until he and the rest of his kind were put into the ground, and he fully supported this idea, even if he knew it would be a task far beyond just him and the men of the rebellion.

Still... His fingers brushed that silver ring, and he found himself glancing to his father's headstone. A small, painful smile curled at his lips as he wondered what his father would think of him now. He was sure there would be shame, disappointment, but... could there also be pride? At least, if in nothing else, but the choice of the woman he wanted to stand beside him? He did not mind overmuch if there was to be shame and hate sent his way for his failure, for his wrongdoings, for his survival... but he hoped, hoped beyond hope, that Raine at least would be the one thing to bring a smile to the face of the man he had worshipped as a boy.

"She is nothing like the women I imagine you thought of, when you gave me this ring, Father... but I doubt, somewhere deep down inside of me, that you would care. Substance has always been what you judged a person on... Substance, not bloodlines or nobility, and she is far from both." Dimitri once again felt the words escaping his lips without his consent, but for once, he felt calm as he spoke to the nothingness, and saw no ghosts staring back at him with hateful, agonized eyes. There was only that cold, gorgeously engraved stone, and that was something he could look at, could take in, without feeling that lance of pain and guilt. Their whispers, their presences, had ceased for the moment, and because of that small mercy, he found himself feeling safe in speaking the truth. "Starting life as a mercenary, and then to a professor, and then compared to Saint Seiros herself with her gifts... Now, the leader of the rebellion... She may have come from humble beginnings, but now... She stands far and above any nobleman or woman I have ever known... No, she's beyond any sort of comparison I could ever make. I was besotted with her as a boy, and now as a man... She's all I yearn for. All I wish for. If I could give her the world entire, I would... and yet all she asks is that I love her. It seems foolish... Unfair. She asks for so little, when she deserves so much more."

Yet, as Dimitri smiled fondly at the thought of her, was that not really a part of her charm? That even as she was, with so much power at her fingertips, commanding so many men and women who listened to her every word with complete faith... Her wants were so simple. Her wishes even moreso. She was a mercenary at her core no matter where life had taken her, and it had taken her far from all she had ever known, but she had not really changed at all. She was still that kind, patient and gentle professor that had taken his heart and made him waver when nothing in the world had managed to do so, and now... "I wish to marry her, Father... If I could, I'd beg your blessing. Now, I can only hope that you would give it to me. Of course, I know that I cannot do so until all this ends, until I can promise her something concrete, and not mere empty words and gestures... but I know she is the one I wish for. She's spent so much time guiding me, pulling me away from the dark, and back onto the right path... I wish to spend the rest of my life showing her my gratitude, and giving her a lifetime of peace and happiness in return."

He closed his eyes as he pulled his hands free of his pockets, and he again felt that sharp stinging reminder that what he wished for was not what he deserved. Yet, he was beginning to rationalize it, beginning to understand what Rodrigue had said that if he could not find it in himself to live for his own will... then he could live for another, and that would be more than acceptable. He could not say he deserved freedom or happiness. Not after all he had done... but the same could not be said for her. "I still am a monster... and when I leave here, I know I will hear your voice again in my ears, and see you again in my nightmares. You will always haunt me... and I accept that as my punishment. I will not block my ears, nor will I look away... I will do all I can to ensure a better future, but more than that... I will make her happy. I will live for her, to make her wishes come true, to give her peace and safety and comfort... and I believe that will be enough for me. In truth, it's... all I wish for. She could make me her slave, and I would live and die a happy man..."

Silence fell again, save for the whistle of the wind, and Dimitri watched the stones ahead of him for what felt like an eternity. They gave him no reply, but he had not expected, nor wanted one... and he had found himself running short of things to say. He could feel a pull deep in his stomach, urging him to turn on his heel and return to the castle, and he let out another long breath as he ceded to it. He had done all he could do tonight... In the morn, he would return with the proper gifts to lay on their graves, but for now, he had other business he needed to return to. He bowed his head thrice, once for each headstone, before he turned away, following the faded footsteps in the snow that would lead him back to the castle.

The trip back was mercifully quiet, with the wind at his back and no longer stinging at his face as he made his way back up the hill and through the large, sprawling courtyard. Snow covered everything he could see, but it was a welcome sight to him. How long had it been, since he had seen such an expanse of clear, white snow spreading out in every possible direction he could look? Faerghus had somehow, in the past five years, become a distant sort of dream to him. He had lost touch with his homeland, with his birthplace, and he had forgotten how much he had come to miss it. Everything was comfortingly familiar, welcoming him home with open arms, and yet... It didn't quite feel right to him.

As the castle came back to fill his vision, he caught a glimpse of a head of familiar seafoam-green hair on the balcony that he had been planning to slip back into the party from. He caught himself short, wondering momentarily why she had left the gathering, and then feeling a bittersweet pang in his chest as that somewhat empty feeling vanished abruptly from him. She was what had been missing from it all, even if it was his home he had returned to. Of course it hadn't felt completely right without her. It made him smile ruefully, as he took the steps two at a time, and he wondered how she could make him feel so strong, and yet also so incredibly weak.

"Raine."

She turned abruptly at his call, eyes widening momentarily before her expression softened into a smile at his appearance. She was leaning on the balcony, looking for all the world as if she belonged there, and he felt that familiar pulse of possessiveness that made him _want_ to ensure that she did despite it all. He noted the redness in her cheeks, the thinness of her normal clothing against the cold wind of his homeland, and as she began to greet him, he stopped her short as he shrugged from his own cloak and dropped it over her shoulders without preamble. She blinked, surprised, and he offered a small smile before she folded the overlarge garment across her front and remarked with a small laugh, "If you keep giving this to me, you'll have to be well prepared when I start stealing it myself when you aren't looking."

"If you wish to have it, you may. Especially considering how ill-dressed you are for the climate. I'd prefer to be without a cloak than see you ill. I'm much more used to the weather here than you. It may be spring, but it still grows frightfully cold in Fhirdiad." Dimitri answered just as lightly, and he reached idly to wrap his arm about her waist to draw her close. She came willingly, leaning against his broad chest, and he slid his hand down her arm, finding her cold hand to wrap his own snugly about it. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, asking idly as she snuggled firmly into his embrace with the knowledge that no one was about to witness them, "How long have you been out here?"

"Perhaps an hour. Maybe an hour and a half? I was speaking to Warin shortly before you arrived. We had a talk that was long coming." Raine answered honestly, and when she felt Dimitri stiffen uncertainly, she curled her fingers through his and delivered a comforting squeeze. She nestled a little closer, relishing the warmth of both him and his cloak before she explained gently, "It's all right. There was no arguing or scolding... We just had... lost touch with each other. There was a lot we needed to talk about. Things we both needed to say to one another... but... I think things will be fine between us now."

"I'm glad to hear it." Dimitri replied honestly, and from the look on her face, one of mixed relief, affection and peace as she spoke of her brother, he knew that she was speaking the truth. He had seen the tension between the two of them, felt Warin's anger at war with his own shame and disappointment, and though he had hoped the two siblings would find a way to patch the gap between them, he had known it was not his place to intercede. Warin still held a great deal of contempt for him. He very well likely would for the rest of his life. He could accept that, and would accept that, so long as it did no harm to Raine. "The two of you are much stronger together than you could be apart."

"Funny you say that... He said a similar thing of the two of us during our conversation."

At that, Dimitri blinked and pulled back, not quite sure if she was jesting with him, and not quite sure if he would prefer if she was. She looked up at him with a little smile, her eyes glittering with honest affection, and she reached to squeeze his forearm reassuringly when he frowned down at her uncertainly. She stepped in close again, nestling herself back where she had been before she continued for him softly, calmly, "I know the two of you had your... moments. And I'm sure there may be more ahead. But you ought to know that for now, my brother approves of you. Of us. He has no intention of telling me what to do, or who I can or can't see. He's not the type, even if he is very protective of me. He respects my autonomy enough to let me do as I please, so long as what I'm doing won't lead me to harm. And he's agreed that you aren't about to hurt me."

Dimitri said nothing for a long moment, now thoroughly unsettled and not entirely sure what it was he could say to such a proclamation. It wasn't true. Not in the slightest. He was doing his best for her, he could say that with honesty, but he had already hurt her. To give him a chance to do it again, with his seal of approval no less... It made him shake his head slowly, uncertainly as he managed to reply in a mutter, "And all that happened before...? He thinks that acceptable?"

"Of course he doesn't... but are you treating me as you did before?" Raine answered him with a sharp jab in the ribs, and Dimitri winced despite himself. She either had spectacularly good aim, or had truly regained every ounce of her former strength now, and she looked up at him, her expression certain and her eyes so calmly sure. It made him wilt, and she reached up to brush his bangs back away from his face, allowing her fingers to linger lovingly on the thick black fabric that covered up his scarred eye before she continued firmly, "My brother and I both know that you don't intend to sweep the past several moons underneath the rug and pretend they never happened... but I've told him that punishing you further won't do you any good. No one will be able to punish you worse than you're punishing yourself. There's no point in trying. You're aware of your wrongdoings. You've claimed them as yours, and you're doing all you can to undo the damage. That takes effort and will, and sincerity. He knows you love me, and you'll be doing all you can for me going forward... That's all he wants to see. And, according to him, your efforts are already bearing fruit, so there's even less of a reason to take you to task anyway."

"If he believes so, then I... I suppose there's nothing for me to do but accept it as well, then." Dimitri replied uncertainly, and he truly was at a loss as Raine stroked her fingers again through his hair and leaned against his chest. He held onto her automatically, instinctively pressing her even closer, and her touch was warm and comforting. He turned his face against her palm, nuzzling her warming skin before he sighed into her fingers. He wasn't sure what to do with this news. What to do with all of the flood of support and well-wishes and approval. It knocked him far and away from what he was used to, and as good as he admitted it felt... There still was that pang of guilt that it was not yet truly won or deserved. He confessed as she reached to curl her other arm about his neck, drawing him down for a long, honest embrace that brought him nuzzling his cheek to her own, "It... It isn't as if I'm glad to hear it, as I am, yet... I don't quite know how to answer. It's all... very conflicting. It may be that way for a long time. Will that be a bother to you? My not knowing how to handle these... gestures?"

"It won't be a bother to me, so long as you accept at least some of them before spurning it as something you haven't earned. You've done good already for both me, and your own people. I understand if you don't find it adequate, but not everyone sees things as you do. If my brother says you've proven yourself trustworthy, then I'm inclined to believe him." Raine pointed out gently, and she squeezed him close momentarily before letting go so she could get a good look at his face. Her hands drifted down his arms, slowly tracing her way down back to his hands before she slid her own back into his grasp. He looked quite lost and out of sorts, but she understood that well enough. It had been a difficult few days for him, even if they had been days of celebration and victory. He was still working. He would be working for the rest of his days. But that was all right by her. He would not be carrying his burden alone. "Besides, even if he didn't... I told you I'd walk beside you for as long as this path remains yours. Warin isn't about to make me turn around and abandon you. He doesn't have that kind of sway over me."

"Very well... I won't say anything further, then, if that's your conclusion." Dimitri allowed, and any ideas or wants he had to argue were far and distant anyway. The sounds from inside of the castle's ballroom were still at full volume, and though the moon was rising up high into the night sky now, he doubted it would be quieting anytime soon. There was much to be celebrating, after all, and everyone needed the release. For himself, however... His thumbs rubbed errant circles into the backs of her hands as he held them tightly in his own, and his voice was low, musing as he began, "I'll admit, I've no real desire to go back inside to attend to the others... Are you of the same mind?"

"I could be persuaded to skip out on the rest of the celebration." Raine allowed with a small, but quickly growing smile as she caught that warm, wanting look in his eye as his hands clasped her own a bit more firmly. He had kept to his word of returning before the party ended, and it didn't seem as if anyone was actually missing them from the din that was still continuing on behind them. It wouldn't exactly be professional of them to slip away, but she was rather certain the two of them were due for a little slacking off in that department. One night would cause no trouble, at least. "Do you have somewhere else in mind to be right now?"

"You know full well that I do." Dimitri answered her with a chuckle, and he reached up to stroke her cheek as she shared in his laughter despite the half-hearted attempt at scolding. It didn't seem to matter that they had been spending most nights together since he had visited her in her quarters several weeks before... They were both admittedly greedy, wanting to catch up on all those missed and ignored moments they could have had, if things had somehow been different when they had met again, all those moons ago. They were aware they had to have been noticed, were likely being judged, but to Dimitri, so long as she was still willing... He tweaked her ear playfully, making her laugh at the ticklish sensation before he leaned down to catch her lips with his before he answered, "Come with me, then, my beloved. Let me show you my home and share it with you as long as we're able. Tonight you can lie with me in _my_ bed... We won't be disturbed so easily there."

"Mmm... That does sound nice." Raine mused softly, and she allowed for him to lead her away and out of the cold, sidestepping the ongoing celebration for a cleverly hidden door that led right into the hallway, rather than the ballroom. Dimitri's hand was tight on her own even as they walked side-by-side throughout the castle's halls, not so much leading as he was guiding her, and she admired that calm look on his face as their fingers interlaced and held on tightly with each step they took together. He was well and truly home, in his element as the future king of Faerghus, and she admittedly could not be happier for him. After all he'd suffered through, after all he would continue to suffer through... He deserved this happiness, simple and small as it was... and if she could do anything to make it better... She intended to do so. Both for him, as well as for herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> It's one of those days, and been one of those weeks. I'm extremely tired and feeling sick, so I sadly don't have a lot to be saying. I've been a bit stuck in FE, (as I've been focussing so heavily on one chapter, so there's been a lot of things I've been replaying and re-watching) so I'm glad to be moving on to Derdriu, Claude and the rest of the standard plotline, as much a I really enjoy my fluff with two characters in sore need of it. Sadly, I'm on a schedule, and I would like to see AM done. It's just a matter of giving myself a kick in the arse and working on through the slump. Once I'm better, I'm sure I'll feel more up to writing and gaming.
> 
> Anywhosit, this was the long-awaited chat between Warin and Raine, and I'm hoping I did them both justice. It's amusing, as the two characters are so ideologically opposed, but still incredibly close and loyal to one another despite it. (Whereas Aidan and Eve in my Fates works were twins, and never had much reason to argue.) I like the dynamic between these two and want to write much more of it... Thankfully, Derdriu, as well as the infamous parley scene, will give me plenty to work with once I get there. Heheheh, I'm really excited for that particular bit, even though having to replay it and write out the script again might make me want to bash my head into a wall. Ah well. Suffering for our art. -laughs-
> 
> Anyway, there's always more to come, and I'm thankful as always for your continued reading. Another short author's note, but my eyes are crossing, and if I write much more, I'm probably gonna devolve into typing with webdings. Anyone but me remember webdings? I feel really old. -hit with a frying pan- So! Please drop a review should you feel the need, and I'll see you with my next chapter soon. Have a good one, as always!
> 
> PS: Due to the quarantine, I figured I'd just let everyone know that what's bothering me has been mostly medication and stress related, and not the problem that's currently rampaging across the world. I am not that kind of sick, though it hasn't been doing my mental health any favours, hence the longer wait than usual for this chapter. I'm isolated at home anyway because of my disability, which also unfortunately means I won't be seeing my fiancée for awhile due to the border closures. It's hard to stay motivated, as well as rested and energetic, but I will be working my way through it, day by day. Y'all stay healthy and safe as well!
> 
> PPS: The next chapters will be all revolving around fixing certain... narrative devices that have popped up since this fanfic is currently en route to be melding with other routes and their storylines. This means that Claude will be dropping in soon (not next chapter, but the one afterwards), and as with Edelgard even further down the line, I want to remind everyone that how I view and write a character likely will not be in line with how everyone else does. If this bothers or concerns you, you are free to say so, but please do not be rude or aggressive when you do so. Edelgard, Claude, and Dimitri are all highly divisive characters with no shortage of fans as well as problems, and juggling the lot of them with how I view them, along with the plot of the story, and their current roles in the canon means that things are going to get messy. This is the nature of human bonds, as well as the situation that everyone is currently in, regardless of their motivations or not... Anywhosit, consider this a little head's up of what's to come soon!
> 
> Mood: Sick.
> 
> Listening To: "BE Zero" - Hilcrhyme (Cagaster of an Insect Cage OP)
> 
> ~ Sky


	18. Pieces of the Puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: Introspective, Mystery, Friendship, Family, War, Romance. (M)
> 
> Characters: Dimitri, Raine, Rodrigue, Gilbert, Warin, Seteth.
> 
> Summary: The taking back of the Silver Maiden had been a brutal battle, even for the bolstered and determined troops of the rebellion... but it had been done, and Arianrhod had once again found herself in the capable hands of the Kingdom forces. Yet, that would not be the end of things. The Empire's machinations had stretched far and plunged in deep, and the whispers that had been tightly held to the chest could no longer be kept secret. With Lord Arundel leading the armies invading the Alliance, the time had come for the truth to be released, if they hoped to find the real enemy they were seeking for.

**Garland Moon**

**Garreg Mach (Knight's Hall)**

**Nightfall**

"I am afraid that I do not understand all of this, Your Highness... You mean to tell me that you believe not only Cornelia, but Lord Arundel as well are imposters, and are also likely behind the Tragedy of Duscur? Upon what do you base these accusations?"

Gilbert's voice was startled and confused, which, Raine supposed, was an accurate reaction to the speculation that he was currently hearing. To almost everyone at the table, barring herself, her brother, and Dimitri, it had to sound almost ludicrous. Yet, she had seen enough, and heard enough to know that her suspicions were no longer just idle speculations. Cornelia herself had proven it for them in Fhirdiad, and with Warin and Dimitri's backing, she had felt comfortable in assembling her advisors to brief them on what she now knew. She had expected their reaction, and had prepared for it, but she still had to wonder idly if perhaps they had broached the subject too soon. After all, they had no proof but Dimitri's suspicions of his former uncle, but even then, everything else seemed to fall just too neatly into place to leave it underneath the rug.

It did not help that their confirmation that Lord Arundel was leading the assault on the Alliance's forces had boxed them rather effectively into a corner. The Empire was still reeling, now having lost two major battles in a row with the recapturing of Fhirdiad and the retaking of the Silver Maiden, and Arundel leading in the Emperor's footsteps straight into Derdriu only meant that time was of the essence. Their advisors at the very least needed to be made aware of their suspicions, even if they were to be fruitless, simply to be prepared for the dangers that would come if they were proven true. Underestimating their enemies had proven to be their biggest mistake five years ago. They could not be naive enough to do it twice.

Warin was the one who spoke up when Raine hesitated, and he was sitting down in a nearby chair, feet up on the table in contrast the rest of those in the room who were standing and looking about at one another in confusion and anxiety. To the rest of them, he looked unconcerned and unbothered, which he knew his sister was grateful for when she shot him a look as he explained, arms crossed over his chest and his voice calm and blunt, "Mathematics. All of this is simple mathematics if you follow the established pattern. Everything we've outlined for you follows their exact methodology, down to the letter. We've proof with Cornelia. The likelihood of being wrong on Arundel is slim to none, considering all of the current facts we have at hand."

Rodrigue tilted his head, intrigued despite himself as he reflected on the conversation he had had with Gilbert on the Great Bridge concerning Patricia. Though Gilbert had resisted it fiercely, he had not been able to shake his own doubts. What he was being told, of this mysterious group hiding in the shadows and working with the Empire as a front... He could well enough follow the logic that the siblings, and his future king, had been using to reach their conclusion. It also did fit into the established pattern they had discovered, with Tomas and Monica and now Cornelia, and he was not about to dismiss them. Yet, he did have to admit as he looked to Warin, "You seem quite convinced of all of this. What, beyond the patterns you've noticed, makes you so sure?"

"Again, it's just mathematics. Every single person in this room has had their doubts about all of this from the very beginning concerning all these so-called "minor" details. All the inconsistencies, the things that simply didn't add up, the mysteries... They've been there from the start, but for whatever reason, you all were content to never dig into your suspicions, and so you let the matter lie for fear of what the truth meant." Warin answered bluntly, and he cast a scathing glance about the room, meeting every noble's eyes with scorn and dismissal as they all failed to hold his gaze for more than a moment or two in obvious proof that he had hit a deeply buried nerve. It almost made him want to laugh, if it wasn't so damned infuriating. How much time had they lost, because no one but them had chosen to search further? How many deaths could have been prevented? They had to be beyond count, and he laid all of the corpses at the feet of the men before him as he continued, "I saw what was before me, and dug to find more. The pieces of the puzzle were there, and putting them together was not a titanic effort. Your cowardice blinded you. That is your fault, not mine. If you wish to close your eyes to the idea of there being another, larger threat behind the Empire, that is also your choice, but you should step down from the mantle of "advisors" and allow others with more open minds to take your place before we lose more innocents. If this war is to continue even after the fall of the Empire, then it must continue. Are you willing to go as far as you must to completely bury the threats your homeland, or not? It's that simple."

"Warin, that's enough." Raine scolded him slightly as she saw the rippling of shame and guilt on the faces of the men before her, and she settled a reproachful, but gentle hand on her brother's shoulder. He was not necessarily wrong, and she admitted that, but it didn't change the fact that he was being unnecessarily cruel with his choice of words. Of course, she did understand. He, like her, was still harbouring a good deal of resentment for the lack of aid these men had given her while still forcing her to lead. Unlike her, however, he had no fear in bringing such topics into the light, brutally if he must, because he had no patience or empathy for them and their reasons. She reminded him gently, knowing full well it wouldn't change his mind whatsoever, but not wanting to have him make himself an enemy to the people they were trying to convince, "They've been given quite a lot to take in tonight. It's understandable that they'd find it hard to swallow straight away. They're permitted to be shaken, and to have questions. As well as doubts."

"Not to the point of paralysis."

Raine sighed heavily, wondering if her brother's combativeness was worth his perception, especially as she saw that look go about her advisors' faces at Warin's choice of words. He truly did not give a damn about any of them, and was unafraid to show it. It was not a good look for him, and it was obviously raising tensions that didn't need to be raised. She shook her head, scolding him again even though there was a good portion of her that was enjoying watching Rodrigue, Seteth, and Gilbert squirming underneath her brother's cold lash, "Warin, if you're not going to do anything but drive the hammer down, you can keep quiet until we need you. Keep it up, and you'll start a brawl, which we really don't need right now. We're trying to convince these men to believe us, not want to kill you for being so blatantly insulting."

"No, I believe Warin's words have merit, and it's well worth listening to him." Dimitri spoke up, making both siblings, as well as the trio of men in the room turn to look at him in surprise. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling, especially when both Raine and Warin were looking at him as if they had never seen him before, but he soldiered on regardless. He had been the one to bring their trusted advisors there for this talk, and he had thoroughly put himself behind their theories and concerns, and though he understood Raine's concern for Warin's behaviour turning off his allies... What did that matter to the truth? He continued firmly, looking about at each person in the small, closed-off room as he spoke, "Complacency has bought us nothing but pain, and given our enemies an upper hand that has nearly brought every person in this room to an early end at least once. We cannot afford to keep shutting our eyes and ears out of fear of what we might find. And I speak of this from my own personal experience, as you all well know. There is a very real chance that my stepmother, that Patricia, may have had a hand in the Tragedy of Duscur. Whether or not the details are more in her favour or against it matters not. The truth remains. If I were to close my eyes and ears to this fact, and refused to dig further, the truth would be lost entirely... and the fault for that would solely be my own. I cannot live with such a thing. You all must ask yourselves if you can, or cannot, as well."

Raine slid her hand surreptitiously into Dimitri's as he spoke, interlacing their fingers and glad that their cloaks, and the immediate looks and mutters around the room was enough of a cover for it. She hated hearing him say such things, even though she was well aware that he had every right to be as cautious and pessimistic as he was. Nothing that they had discovered, nothing that they had seen or heard, was doing anything to paint Patricia in any sort of warm light. It was a theory and nothing more than she was a victim, and the more they looked and heard of the pains that had been taken to help her survive the Tragedy... It seemed her role was not as small as they had initially hoped.

Dimitri did not show an outward reaction, though he was glad as he felt Raine's hand slipping into his to give him a comforting squeeze. He understood her intent well enough, and also her concern. She had been the one after all to give him a sliver of hope to hold onto, and though that sliver was rapidly growing smaller and smaller... He still appreciated that her knee-jerk reaction to understanding all of this had to been to look for the best possible option, to give him comfort and hope, even if it seemed far-fetched. That alone was enough for him. He had accepted that he might be disappointed, but that would not break him. He had his memories, and his own feelings, which were just as true as any fact he would one day learn. That would be enough. But he returned the pressure of her fingers, and continued on firmly as she supported him in silence, "Having said all of that, now... I would now know your stances. Do you believe in our speculations, or do you see them as nonsense?"

There was a pause as Rodrigue, Gilbert and Seteth looked about at one another thoughtfully. Gilbert and Rodrigue held glances the longest, while Seteth however reached for a nearby chair and settled himself into it. His brow was deeply furrowed, and he clasped his hands under his chin, his sharp eyes speculative and thoughtful as he began slowly, carefully, "I will admit, all of this does indeed fit the pattern you have provided... Especially when you bring up Monica, and Tomas. Cornelia, you say, fits this pattern, and you have proven that she was also amongst this number that we saw five years prior with what you have discovered. Arundel has changed in a similar manner, and without any seemingly rational cause, just as Cornelia supposedly did. It is justifiable to assume he may be amongst their numbers as well."

"I will agree on that point. There is seemingly a sound pattern to be following here." Rodrigue spoke up, nodding to Seteth as he likewise took a nearby seat to join the discussion properly. Gilbert stood still and to the side, clearly uncomfortable with the topic at hand and what it meant, but the nobleman could understand his hesitation. He was a knight first before he was a noble, and his loyalty to the royal family was absolute. It was why he had become so defensive when the topic had been broached before, but now, Rodrigue was well aware that there was no more time left to be patient, or understanding. If His Highness had brought this to their attention with such certainty... "Cornelia's actions were a mystery to many, especially after the aid she provided to the Kingdom... but it all was overlooked, even by the king himself, because of the lives she saved... If I was to install a plant, or a spy, into an enemy nation... It would make sense to use such a person as their cover. Though, I am to imagine, that like Monica and Tomas, this means that the true Cornelia must be dead...?"

"That is most likely, which also brings into speculation that the true Lord Arundel is also dead, if we are to look at when his abrupt change in behaviour took place." Seteth answered affirmatively, and his eyes narrowed further as he studied the map in front of him with a new, fresh perspective. Lord Arundel's withdrawal from the church had not raised any suspicions when it had first happened, as he was not the first noble to do so, and he most likely would not be the last... but now, taking into account of what had happened to Monica and Tomas, when they had likewise been realized as mere disguises for this group... The pattern was incredibly clear, and too much to dismiss out of hand. "It seems that this enemy of ours is capable of much, and has been working for a very long time to create instability... This is not new, and it is not the first time that Fódlan has seen itself attacked by shadowy groups of questionable nature, and yet... My only question however then, is what are they truly after, and why?"

"That's easy enough to answer. It's power. Power, and control. As old as time itself." Raine answered easily, and her eyes were flat and her expression completely neutral as she unsheathed her blade from her belt and placed it onto the table without any preamble. All who had taken a seat withdrew automatically from its presence, something that made her smile grimly, and she continued on as she knew she had the full attention of everyone in the room as she spoke clearly, laying her hand protectively over the Sword of the Creator's hallow socket as the words left her lips, "What they wanted from the start was _this,_ and they had the perfect puppet in place for it, long before it fell into my hands by sheer accident. Think of that. How far ahead they thought and planned, to obtain the power they wanted. And that's how desperate, or bold, they are in order to get it. Any enemy with such potential should be treated with utmost caution and suspicion... and decimated with absolute prejudice. Imagine if they had somehow managed to get the Sword of the Creator into Edelgard's hands. Fódlan would have been firmly under her heel in under a year after she declared war if it had gone as they wanted."

"That would be impossible. She would need the Crest of Flames to wield that blade." Gilbert spoke up for the first time, his eyes narrowed as he looked to the Relic that Raine had placed so carelessly in front of the room full of warriors. It was true enough that how she wielded it was still beyond him, even if she did have the Crest of Flames, as the Crest Stone still was missing from the blade. If anyone but her was to wield it, there were risking their lives and souls to its mercy, and would soon suffer a fate worse than death by transforming into a Black Beast. He has seen it firsthand with Miklan. The power of a Relic was a horrible temptation, but the price one would pay by misusing it was also far more than the victories that could be gained with it in hand. "We are all aware her Crest is the Crest of Seiros, not the Crest of Flames. She would never be able to handle the Sword of the Creator."

"Not... necessarily." Seteth spoke very slowly, comprehension dawning in his eyes as he looked to the siblings before him, then to Dimitri, and then finally back to Gilbert. It made his mouth taste like acid, and yet... He shook his head. Hanneman had thought himself sly, but the truth was that his studies with the Golden Deer had not gone unnoticed. Nor had Lindhart's fascination with that certain white-haired mage from House Ordelia. There had always been sharp eyes within the monastery, watching, evaluating... and he cursed quietly to himself as he explained, "There _has_ been an instance of someone with not one, but two Crests in the last decade... A former student in the Golden Deer house, to be exact. It is true, that the secondary Crest did not come into existence naturally, but it was there, all the same. Professor Hanneman did much to hide it in an attempt to further his own research, but those above knew. If it has happened once, it most certainly could have happened again. And with these enemies possessing the materials and knowledge that they do to already perform such feats... It isn't out of the question that Edelgard may indeed also be a bearer of the Crest of Flames."

"She has it. There's no doubt. I took her blood from Raine's blade to give to Professor Hanneman shortly after Grondor. He found the evidence when I told him what we were searching for. Edelgard was being conditioned to wield the Sword of the Creator... Unfortunately for her, it fell into Raine's hands before it could be stolen." Warin interjected before anyone could argue, and it was not with any pleasure that he slid his trump card from out of his sleeve to cut the arguments short and get straight to the facts. It hadn't been out of careless ease that he had taken Raine's blade from her clothing in the infirmary. He wanted to test his theory, and obtaining a sample of Edelgard's blood to provide to Hanneman had been his only recourse. And Hanneman, much to his surprise, had already proven that he had harboured similar suspicions of his own. "We can safely say that the Sword of the Creator was indeed meant to be in Edelgard's hands, per the machinations of Thales and his ilk... We were lucky to have avoided that."

A terse, anxious silence filled the room, and all eyes, whether by their own will or no, eventually returned to the Relic that lay so innocuously on the table before them. All of them at one point or another had seen exactly what it could do, and just how far it outclassed the other Hero Relics of old. It was no jest that this weapon before them was something of legends, and of horror. Warin was completely right in saying that the blade ending up in Raine's hands was a stroke of good fortune. It was indeed quite possible that if their enemy had had their way, that Edelgard would have conquered the Alliance and Kingdom far faster with it in her hand. Raine herself had already proven just how deadly it was, and with the ease she used it... The room seemed to chill as a sensation of fear, fear and brooding, fell heavy on their heads.

"What is it that you are planning, Professor?"

Rodrigue's voice broke the veil, and all eyes turned to him as he sat up straight in his chair and addressed the woman who had still not removed her hand from the sword. He had witnessed her wielding it many a time now, and he had seen how it seemed to be a part of herself, rather than simply a weapon. He had made his mistakes, refusing to support her when it would have been prudent to do so, but he would not fall for such things again. If His Highness had made his decision to stand firmly behind this woman, than it was only right that he follow suit. So now he looked to her, eyes clear and face calm and yet still burning with rebellion as he questioned, "I am to assume that you did not just call us here to inform us of what you knew... You are a wise woman, and you think far beyond the next horizon when it suits you. You have already looked beyond this meeting. What is it that you plan to do?"

Raine looked from Rodrigue to Gilbert and then to Seteth, taking in their expressions with careful neutrality. Gilbert was avoiding her gaze, looking down at the blade rather than her face, and the guilt that was driven deep into the lines in his face spoke volumes for how he felt. He was discomforted and at a loss, thinking of the family he had failed and what had been right under his nose that he had failed to detect, but such things were not her priority. She knew he would fight, that his conscience and his loyalty would command him to fight on, regardless of how he felt of things as they were. It was his way, his only way, of seeking atonement for the sins of his past, regardless of how far that parted him from those who cared for him and wished him back.

Seteth, like Rodrigue, on the other hand met her stare head-on. His eyes were clear despite his troubled expression, and his hands lay folded and clenched on the table. Unlike the two Kingdom nobles, he was a man of the church, and it had always been clear where his loyalties lied, and with whom. Raine did not begrudge him for that, nor for his priorities, but she was not about to allow his wants to supersede the well-being of the army any longer. He and Gilbert both had proven to do more harm than good with their insistence on following Dimitri to Enbarr, for vengeance and for Rhea, and she had not yet forgiven either of them for using the prince when he had been at his worst to accomplish their own goals. Sating guilt and finding Rhea were not priorities she cared for, and they owed her, and Dimitri much, before she would trust them with her back again on the battlefield.

Now, however, was the test of their mettle. Raine reached for her blade, sheathing it again in one smooth movement as Warin rose to his feet to take his place at her left side as if it was the most easy thing for him to do. With Dimitri on her right, her hand still covertly hidden inside of his, Raine admitted she felt strong, reckless, and more than anything... Angry. She was tired of fighting blind. Tired of being told she knew nothing. She had taken it as a challenge, and she had been digging, relentlessly and furiously, for the truth ever since she had woken after that long, five-year slumber. She was not yet there, but she would be... and it made her voice cold, fiercely lashing out like a whip as she answered, "I intend to continue on with this war. To root them out wherever they may be, yank them into the light, and slaughter them wholesale like the beasts they claim we are. We cannot, and will not, be able to live in any sort of peace with these fiends living amongst us, using us, and playing us against one another for their own gain. They made a puppet of the Empire, and the Imperial citizens are suffering for it. We all are suffering for it... and I intend to end it. Personally, if I must. Your obligations end at the Empire's capture, and the rescue of Rhea, which I don't protest... but mine go beyond. I won't rest until I know who these rats scurrying about in the dark are, what they want, and why they wanted it so badly. I will continue fighting to learn the truth, and then put an end to all of them."

"I intend to follow." Dimitri continued firmly on her heels, not allowing for an answer from the trio of men before him, and knowing he did not need to speak for Warin. It was obvious enough that wherever Raine went, her brother would follow, but he would make his own stance clear enough to his mentor, and the man who had stepped in to be like a father to him when his own had passed too suddenly. He looked both Gilbert and Rodrigue in the eyes, his voice hard with conviction as he explained to them in a strong, clear voice, "I say this both as myself, and as the future king of Faerghus... This war does not end with the toppling of the Empire. If we permit them to retreat back into the shadows, any victories we have obtained, any good we intend to do, can be undone within a generation... We cannot end this war halfway. I will, of course, make concessions for the armies that have fought with us thus far... We are with little information, and in sore need of more. It is my hope we shall find what we need in Enbarr, and will continue on from there. But those who do not wish to fight, or cannot fight any longer, will not be made to follow. With the Empire toppled, both their forces and our own will be weakened. But they will likely not expect another direct attack upon them, which is exactly what I intend to do."

"And how do you intend to accomplish this, if you are going to free the armies that have been fighting alongside you all this time, Your Highness?" Rodrigue questioned shrewdly, and he looked from the siblings back to his future king with calm, but fiercely glittering eyes. He obviously believed their every word, and though his posture was relaxed, there was still a sort of tension, excitement, almost, as he watched them closely. How long had he burnt with guilt and sadness for the death of his friend, and for his own son? To have a chance to put an end to the mysteries of Duscur was almost beyond his wildest dreams... but he still had to approach it as calmly as he possibly could manage, for their sakes as much as his own, "Will you storm their stronghold with just yourselves?"

"I plan to tell everyone the truth, and allow for them to make up their own minds on the matter. If they wish to fight, and are in any shape to do so, then they'll be welcome to join us. Those who are finished may lay down their arms and put themselves to rebuilding... and I also intend to ask for aid from Claude on this particular matter." Raine answered, and she was almost amused by the sharp looks that were cast her way when she mentioned the young leader of the Alliance. She could sense their questions on their lips, and she answered them before they could be asked as she folded her arms errantly over her stomach, "What Claude has always prized most is unveiling secrets... What better bait to tempt him with than giving him a position to unveil a mass conspiracy personally? He won't be able to say no. And this problem effects him, just as much as it does the Kingdom. The Alliance fell to civil war because of the Empire. Because of Edelgard. If he has any real interest in putting a stop to the meddling in his territory, he will want to see it all put to an end... and even if he refuses that... Well, I don't need his permission to seek out the other lords and ask for _their_ aid instead."

"Raphael has been in contact with several of his comrades from the Golden Deer... We have already secured a promise of aid from the remaining forces loyal to House Gloucester from Lorenz." Dimitri continued where Raine left off, and he glanced to her with a small, appreciative smile at the idea that still she was playing a long, long game that nobody would have thought of, or imagined. Raphael had been more than happy to write on her account to his former comrades, and the speed with which he had been answered had proven Raine's actions on the Great Bridge of Myrddin had not been in vain. "Marianne has joined her voice to his, as well as his old friend, Ignatz. Of course, we cannot assume we will have full support from the Alliance entire, but we can make a case to them, and I will do so when we accomplish our mission this moon. Should they choose to join us or not, it does not matter. We will make do with what we can get. We always have. And this is a threat we cannot avoid."

Warin rolled his shoulders back, stretching himself calmly as he looked from one unsure face to the next as he saw they weren't entirely convinced. He could well understand their hesitance to rely on Claude, especially considering how little his aid had really been when the war was looked at from a long-distance perspective. Claude had played a conservative hand even while giving them aid, and he had paid a heavy toll in Grondor despite their best efforts to spare his men from the Imperial troops. If he wanted nothing more to do with them, with the Alliance, after Derdriu was saved, it would be the perfect time for him to take his escape and bow out. Warin expected nothing less, and he spoke up idly, "There are many options for bolstering our forces, but counting out the Alliance right now is a fool's errand. Claude may be unwilling to give aid, and may forbid his house from lending us soldiers, but he is only one lord of many in the Alliance. Lorenz has already sworn an oath to Raine, due to her action on the bridge. While his father may have led the civil war underneath the Empire's banner, Lorenz's voice still holds weight at the roundtable. If he leads, other smaller houses may follow. And if they prove to be insufficient, I know several mercenary companies that we can trust to fill our ranks, if worst comes to worst. We can't afford to be picky."

Seteth let out a long, tired breath, both somewhat surprised by their intuition and willingness to stride on forward, and also their complete lack of fear as they presented their plans. They had effectively trapped all three of the older men into a position where saying no was simple idiocy at best, and wilful ignorance at worst. They had proven their ability to work around their so-called superiors, and from that smouldering look in Raine's usually so calm or neutral gaze... He could do nothing but nod his head, speaking slowly, quietly, "I imagine if you've already gone this far, then you've no intention of moving backwards at this point. You did not assemble us for permission, merely to tell us what you intend to do from here on out. Am I correct?"

"That's right. I've no intention of acting in the shadows any longer. Nor am I about to ask permission for what I do. That time has come and gone. You can either fall in line, or stay out of my way." Raine answered with a harsh, cold edge to her voice, and she watched with a dim sort of satisfaction as Gilbert and Rodrigue winced at her words. Seteth however continued to hold her eyes, and she both admired and hated him for his steadiness before she continued on firmly, "I'm aware where your loyalty lies, Seteth. It's always to the Church and to Rhea first... and I haven't complained, nor will I start to. But be aware of this; I don't trust you. You, or Rhea. You've both kept secrets from me, and you continue to do so, even now. When Rhea returns, I intend to squeeze out every drop of information she's kept from me and my brother, and then give her back this mantle she shoved onto my shoulders. I want nothing to do with leading the Church of Seiros. It should have been your duty, not mine. But for the sake of our goals, I'll continue as I have, and I'll expect your support, whether you want to give it to me or not. Then when this war ends, I'll see the backs of you once and for all."

Seteth looked from young face to face, taking in the measured expressions that stared back at him and he bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling. Such raw defiance and unfiltered resentment... and he knew it was their right to feel as they did. He had argued, had chided, but in the end, he had been a follower, and had done nothing that could prove he was worthwhile of their trust. Still, he did admit it smarted to be told so frankly that she did not believe in him whatsoever, and he said so with a regretful sigh, "It pains me to hear you speak so frankly of mistrusting me, especially at this juncture, but... I will not say I have not earned it. Still, I will tell you that I have no intention of doing anything less than following your orders and ending this war however it is you wish to end it. I am your soldier to command... and I will not harm you, or see you come to harm."

"You made your bed when you refused to trust me from the outset until I proved myself useful. And further tucked yourself in when you saw only the way to Enbarr and to Rhea, regardless of the costs it would take to get us there in the state we were in. And I'm speaking to all of you when I say your priorities were skewed, and your hands are every bit as bloody as mine are for how you decided to wage this war in an attempt to accomplish your own ends. I won't forgive any of you for that." Raine's voice once more cracked out like a whip, harsh, cold and fierce, and she cast a steady and withering glare over the three men she should have been able to count on, but had found herself abandoned by. Guilt, neutrality, secondary motives... All of it had led Dimitri further down a path he was only now desperately trying to crawl out of, and she blamed them as much as she blamed herself for having it come to such a point long before it could have been avoided. "From here on out, I do not ask permission, nor will I beg forgiveness. We do things _my_ way now. If you've arguments to make, then make them. I want your opinions, I want your experience, but I don't need your judgement when it's so damned impaired by your own blindness and biases. I trust none of you as men I'd put my back to, but I know your worth as soldiers. This army needs you, and unfortunately, so do I for the time being. Consider this a truce for the past few moons."

Warin forced down a laugh at the stricken looks that passed across the faces of the three men seated before them, and only knowing Raine was now laying down the law and needed the tense atmosphere to have her words have the full impact kept him from showing his emotions. It helped that he could feel Dimitri responding to her anger, and now he was the one squeezing her hand in comfort, and he looked from Gilbert, still looking at the ground in silence, and than to Rodrigue who was nodding along knowingly, accepting his lashing without argument. Seteth seemed to be the only one truly and deeply disturbed, but if he had an argument to make, he could not make it as Dimitri spoke up, likely to ease the tension and break things up before it could come to a head, "Raine has my full support, as well as my full approval to move as she wishes... If there are arguments to be made, debates to be had, then I will permit them, but from now on, her will is my own. She has earned her place as our commander, and I will see her treated as such. But for the moment, we've spoken enough. You may be dismissed, to think on what we have told you, and how you shall move forward from here on out."

There was silence and then a shuffle, and Gilbert excused himself first without much preamble or an excuse. He avoided all eyes as he ducked out of the door and into the night, and Rodrigue followed on after him. He however did pause at the doorway, nodding thrice to each of the young leaders in a show of both respect and apology, and he was rewarded with three nods in return from each of them for it. He swept out after his fellow knight and noble, leaving Seteth last. He stood slowly, painfully, and his face was a grimace as he, likewise, made for the door.

He paused however, his hand heavy on the even heavier wood before he glanced over to Raine slowly. Her seafoam-green eyes were piercing, and her expression even moreso... and though he knew it futile, he could not quite help himself. It made him ache to know that even now, she did not trust him, nor did she trust Rhea. She had every right, he knew that much and accepted it, and yet... He wished for her kinship, all the same. She was intelligent, fierce, and loyal, risking everything to protect those dear to her, and that burrowed down into his very core. They were not so dissimilar, and it made his voice tired, and weak as he spoke again, "I hope you know that I do truly speak with sincerity when I tell you I am loyal to you and your goals, and wish for your victory. In fact, I do honestly wish nothing but the best for you in all of your endeavours."

"Can you say the same for Rhea? Will you tell me all she's been keeping from us?" Raine's reply was cold and cutting, and Seteth winced and looked away from her almost at once as it was delivered. His jaw tightened as his eyes focussed on something outside to avoid looking at her again, and she had her answer without needing his speech. She could already hear the excuses, that they were not his secrets to keep, and the very idea made her temper flare. She didn't care any longer. "I didn't believe so. Keep on walking out, Seteth. I'm merely following your example that you set from the day we met when you declared me untrustworthy. You can't be angry, upset, or disappointed that I'm merely staying in line with your rules."

Seteth had no answer he could give to that reply, and all of them in the room knew it. There were too many ways in which he was being pulled, and it was not as if Raine was wholly wrong. After all she had been through already, the time had long passed for her to begin to draw lines in the sand to protect herself. Even if it meant calling out her allies, and making sure they knew exactly where they were all now standing. With Dimitri's approval, and her renewed spirit... She was nigh-untouchable. There was no stopping her, barring dropping the truths that were not his to say, and that knowledge weighed on him like the world entire as he merely nodded his head and exited the room into the shadows of the night.

Only when the door closed behind him did Raine finally drop her guard, letting out a long, exhausted breath as she slumped down lifelessly into the nearest chair. It was not something she had wanted to do, nor was it anything she enjoyed, and it had taken quite a bit out of her to finally stand up and tell the trio of men how finished she truly was with them. There would be no love lost between her and Seteth, as they had only ever gotten along in professional settings, and she counted that as not much of a loss. Her feelings towards Gilbert were more complicated, due to her involvement with Dimitri and with Annette, but she would admit she felt little sympathy for him, and that it would take a long time before she could look at him with trusting eyes again. Rodrigue had come out the best in the entire mess, proving willing and eager to take ownership of his mistakes, and she already was well aware he would be her best bet in a real, true advisor she could give her tasks to without fear or concern of tainted biases. He loved his king, and would stand up for him, but he also would stand against him to guide him when all other options were gone.

"Heh... I imagine you've been wanting to say that for moons. Quite a show."

Raine grimaced at Warin's laugh, and she wished that it wasn't true as some dark, vindictive little part of her wholeheartedly agreed with his assessment. She had been sitting on boiling resentment and anger for quite some time, and releasing it had been cathartic in some ways... but more than anything she felt tired, not exultant at finally letting her true thoughts free. She could understand Warin's enthusiasm and pleasure, nothing satisfied him more than seeing nobles put back in their place, but she was not her brother. What little good she felt was buried by tiredness and anxiety, concern of burning bridges she still needed in place, but he didn't have to concern himself with that. She rested her head on her hand as she laid her elbow on the table, and she remarked tiredly as she squeezed the bridge of her nose, "Warin... Shut up. I know you enjoyed that, but you _know_ I didn't."

"I _did_ enjoy it. Don't punish me for my little pleasures." Warin replied honestly and with a shrug, but he sobered as he looked to the door, then to Dimitri. The prince's eyes were narrowed and concerned as he watched Raine closely, clearly not thinking of much beyond her care, which was a good thing to see, if still slightly annoying. But he could temper that well enough, and he did so easily as he leaned back once more in his chair and remarked idly to the still-standing noble, "What do you think, then, princeling? Will they follow? Or do you imagine a ruckus?"

"They will follow, if only because they have no choice... But for how long, that will depend on the individual, I think. Once Rhea is rescued, the Church will have no reason to continue onwards, barring their involvement with these... enemies of ours. If Rhea's information extends to them, then perhaps we will gain leverage over the Church's knights, but I admit I am not of a mind to use such tactics to force their hand." Dimitri answered slowly, thoughtfully, and he crossed his arms as he looked upwards as if the ceiling overhead had his thoughts pasted on the wood and stone. "Rodrigue will follow as far as he can, as that is the type of man he is, but he has diminished his own forces greatly over the past several moons in supporting the rebellion. If he cannot aid us, it will not be because he does not wish to, but because he simply does not have the resources to give. I will not fault him for that. As for Gilbert... He will follow for as long as his body allows him to, even if I were to command him not to. And, I think, the same can be said for our class."

"Most likely. They haven't pushed you this far to abandon you now. Once you tell them the truth, they'll be as eager as you to stomp out the last few rats crawling about in the dark." Warin agreed with a nod, and he watched as Raine pulled another face at the truth she clearly already knew, but didn't want to hear. It made him shake his head, though it was with fondness and exasperation as he pointed out to her in a much gentler tone, "You do realize that their loyalty to you is unshakeable, yes? At this point, you could command them to march into the flames themselves for you, and they wouldn't hesitate to throw themselves in. And even if it wasn't for you, they've all suffered because of the Empire, and those pulling the strings behind them. They'll have their own reasons for joining your efforts, even if it didn't come down to loyalty. And once you speak to the Alliance, that's more men to take into our hold. I'm confident this can be done, even if you need to rip the men right out from underneath Claude to do it."

"Believe me, I'm not afraid to push it that far if I must, but I'm hoping Claude leaps for the bait before forcing me to such an extreme." Raine answered with a shake of her head and another long sigh... She was not looking forward to this "meeting" that Claude had pushed for ever since her fall in Grondor, and she could only imagine what he wanted from her now that she was well. His interest in uncovering secrets, regardless of who held them or why, had always made him a pain in the neck... and now there were many a secret she was holding, and she could only hope that tempting him with some of the juicier ones would gain his compliance. It didn't matter if they did not trust one another. Trust wasn't necessary. It was simply commerce, trading one thing for another, and she knew him pragmatic enough to think of it in those terms if she presented it to him in such a manner. "The more you tell me about how pushy he was to speak with me and me only after Grondor, the less excited I am to see him in person again... I only have one thing to offer him, and that isn't something he will ever get. I'd much rather be dealing with Lorenz. He's a far more fair and noble man than Claude is."

"Thankfully for all of us, if Claude does end up leaving the Alliance, leadership falls to Lorenz first... and if not to Lorenz, then House Goneril stands a good chance of taking over. Hilda will be much more malleable than Claude, so either suits me fine." Warin waved his hand dismissively, and when both Dimitri and Raine looked to him with both confusion and interest, he could not help but smile darkly in reply. He shrugged his shoulders before explaining with a cold note to his voice, "While I was in the Alliance searching for Claude, I learned quite a bit of their politics. It's a messy and loud affair, this entire roundtable business, but the balance of power isn't nearly as delicate as it looks to outsiders. The families that hold the most power and influence are easy to see, especially with the war drawing them out and to the frontlines. Right now, House Reigan has control due to birthright. Should Claude abscond, that falls to Gloucester, though there can be claims made that Lorenz is unfit because of his father's betrayal to the Empire. That leaves House Goneril to take charge... Their current leader, Holst, is a strong warrior, a good man, and most importantly, ferociously loyal to the Alliance. You'll have very little trouble convincing him to give you aid should it come to him being the one left in charge. Even less so if you go through his sister."

"You play politics almost as well as a noble. How much time did you spend in the Alliance, learning all of this?" Raine asked rhetorically, knowing full well Warin didn't want to answer as much as she didn't want to hear it. But a cursory look at Dimitri, showing both surprise and admiration proved that every word Warin was speaking was true, and made her confident again despite it all. Warin's look of distaste at the compliment made her want to laugh, but she wisely held it in. It wasn't politics, it was simply the balance of power that Warin had studied, and that was something every mercenary learned to read during their time on the battlefield. How else were they expected to act with only coin in their pocket, and usually little to no information on the foes they were to be set against? She leaned back against her chair, sighing before she waved her hand in an idle gesture, "All right, that's enough for tonight... Go on back to Shamir and gloat about winning one over on the nobles. I'm tired, and I'd rather not talk any more work for the day."

"If you say so." Warin agreed readily enough, and he knew full well when he wasn't wanted. He got up without complaint, stretching his aching muscles before he made for the door like the three elder men had before him. He only paused to look over his shoulder once, watching as Dimitri lay comforting hands on Raine's slumped shoulders, before he turned back around for the exit. She would be fine in present company, and didn't need him here to jape with her when she honestly wasn't in the mood. Shamir would much more enjoy the recounting, and he was rather looking forward to telling her anyway.

The door closed for a fourth time, leaving Raine and Dimitri alone. Dimitri fought back a smile as Raine slumped under his hands, and he rubbed her shoulders with gentle strength as he watched her tired expression closely. She hadn't enjoyed a moment of this even if she had been the one to push for the meeting in the first place, and though it had gone much better than it likely could have, all things considered... It didn't make it any less stressful. He was quiet, voice gentle and calm as she closed her eyes and refused to move from her seat to follow her brother's example to head back to her quarters, "If you're that tired, wouldn't it be wise to retire for the night?"

"Have you finished all of the work put on _your_ desk?"

The reply came sharply despite it being asked tiredly, and Dimitri this time could not fight his smile. Hadn't he been an exhausted mess himself these past several days? After taking back Arianrhod, he had been tasked with absorbing the former houses supporting the Dukedom back into the Kingdom, and the process had not been a smooth one. Over five years, nearing six now, of unattended to politics that were now being shoved unceremoniously into his hands, and he was staggering under the weight just as much as she had at the first. Still, he had been prepared for such things since he was a boy, and even if he was rusty, he did remember his training. And with Rodrigue guiding him, and Raine supporting him, he knew he was the luckier of the two as he answered her honestly, "For the most part, I have, but you know as well as I that it will be back to overflowing on the morrow. I have nothing pressing to return to at the moment."

"That's good to hear. You haven't been sleeping well." Raine mused quietly, and the concern was genuine even as she closed her eyes and melted underneath Dimitri's hands. He continued to rub and massage, easing out the tension that had been building back in her shoulders, and unconsciously she leaned forward to give him more room without thinking. He obeyed her unspoken wishes, his hands applying just a little more pressure, and she arched just a little before letting out a sigh as a knot of tension released underneath his skilled fingers. He had learned her body rather well in the past moon, almost to the point of embarrassment on occasion, but for moments like this... She couldn't really complain.

"Take me back to your quarters tonight, and I'll sleep just fine." Dimitri promised her with a low chuckle, and he watched as she turned her head to shoot him a look that was both exasperated, yet also extremely tender, over her shoulder. Unable to really help himself, he quit his massaging, he plucked her up from her chair with ease before sitting her down on the edge of the table instead. She squeaked in surprise, as always caught off guard by just how strong he was when he wished to be, but he didn't mind it as he stood in front of her and then wrapped his arms about her shoulders to pull her in close for a warm, encompassing hug. He rested his chin on the top of her head, carefully squeezing her about the middle as he added on gently, "If you are concerned however, I can sleep in my own bed tonight. You look exhausted, too. And the last thing we need is an interruption to explain away... Again."

Raine pulled a face, glad that it was hidden in the front of Dimitri's tunic as she well remembered the fallout from that ugly moment when Raphael had been knocking on her door early in the morning. Too early for her, and fearing that she would be in a spectacularly ugly mood when she woke, Dimitri had sacrificed himself by opening the door to greet the intruder to spare her just another hour to rest. No one got off easily when their professor was sleep-deprived, and he knew that better than most. Still, it meant the end of their secrecy, especially since Flayn had been shadowing Raphael, and both of them had look stricken to see the future king of Faerghus emerging from their professor's room early in the morning, hair unkempt, clothes hastily tossed on and very obviously just waking up. Dimitri had been apologetic and remorseful when he had told her what had happened, and she forgave him, even though she had been wincing with the knowledge that the entire monastery would know by lunch, and indeed, they had with Flayn's eagerness to "share the good news".

"At least Raphael was tactful?" Dimitri offered halfheartedly, and Raine playfully thumped his chest as she stifled a laugh by nuzzling her face deeper into his tunic. They both knew that to be true, as the poor former Golden Deer student had looked stunned before promising that he wouldn't utter a word. Flayn of course could not be contained anymore than a hurricane could, but he had done his best to not repeat what he had seen out of respect for their privacy. He was one of the few who did not harbour any resentment whatsoever towards Dimitri over Grondor, as he understood loss well, and he was shockingly mature in comparison to many of his peers. He had already gone through what most were only seeing now, and he had already put his demons to rest long before he had even set foot inside of Garreg Mach. His understanding had been a balm, and it made Dimitri smile as he added on somewhat teasingly, "Scolding Flayn still isn't out of the question, you know..."

"And risk Seteth's wrath? After _this_? No, thank you." Raine answered with a shake of her head, and she nuzzled him one last time before pushing him gently away so she could look up at him properly. He was smiling down at her gently, his cerulean eye glinting with that deep, honest affection that made her entire body warm. His hands lay gently on her hips, refusing to entirely let her go, and she well understood his desire to keep touching her despite it all. They had spent the last few days in their own quarters, attending to their increased workload, and snatching moments when they could during their rounds and in between their usual duties. It wasn't ideal, but it was what they had to do in order to make sure neither fell behind, and to say they missed each other in the cold night hours was an understatement. Though, it made her smile somewhat awkwardly as she looked up at him and remarked almost sadly, "It's a pity I can't stay in your dorm... You're so frequently sought after that we'd never have a moment's peace. Even though they know full well where you are now, they're too afraid to interrupt my sleep in the morning even if they need you."

"The fact that you are _not_ a morning person is indeed an unasked for benefit." Dimitri agreed with a lopsided smile, and he reached to errantly brush her bangs out of her face before tracing her cheek with his knuckles. It was true enough, however. After that first initial interruption, and despite the fact that their relationship was now public knowledge... No one came to her quarters calling for him. Either it was out of propriety, or out of fear, and Dimitri heavily was leaning for the latter. Even in her beginning days as a professor, it had become quickly known that disturbing her sleep for any reason other than a mission or battle was extremely ill-advised. She hated her sleep being interrupted, so much so that she dropped the "Ashen" part of her nickname to become a "Demon" entirely, and she frightened everyone when she was forced to work before her stipulated hours. "Still, I'll agree it is unfortunate you can't visit my quarters as often as I can yours. It would be nice to return the favour and hide you away from the world at large whenever you felt the need."

"The sentiment is enough." Raine disagreed gently, and she hugged his hand to her chest before letting out a long breath and leaning back to look up at him with a small, warm smile. Despite the entire evening, he was still there, lingering to make sure she was truly all right without asking the pressing questions she knew had to be on his mind. He had stood up for her when he had sensed her wavering, but for the most part, he had allowed her to draw her own lines in the sand without him. He had understood it was what she needed to do, to make her voice feel heard without him speaking for her, and she appreciated it immensely. She idly reached down to find his other hand, still glued to her hip, and she threaded her fingers through his as she added on softly, "And with that said, I also appreciate what you did and said tonight. I know it wasn't easy arguing on my behalf to Rodrigue and Gilbert, and that they are important men to you. My feelings for them aside... Thank you for letting me say what I needed to say."

"You've done too much with too little reward or recognition. Rodrigue is aware of that, and he's expressed his regret. Gilbert is a different man, singular in focus, and I'm aware that makes him divisive. I do not approve of everything he does, or why he does it, but he has been at my side for a very long time, and he knows me in a way few do... Still, neither of them are you." Dimitri answered with quiet honesty, and his thumb rubbed absent circles into her thigh as he leaned down to kiss her forehead as she sat still and calm in front of him. Her fingers squeezed his, gentle and understanding, and he gave her a nuzzle before kissing her cheek and continuing gently, " _You_ are my first priority as of now. So, with that in mind... Tell me what you wish for tonight. You've done enough to earn a reward, if you ask me."

Raine laughed gently, pleased with the offer, but dismissive of it all the same. She hadn't done anything beyond reveal the truth that was to come out sooner rather than later, and stand her ground after being made into a doormat. It wasn't anything worthy of a reward, no matter what he said to her. She turned her head slightly, rewarding him with a quick, soft peck before she told him with a trace of another laugh, "Thank you for thinking of me, but I don't need anything other than our usual routine. If you've nothing waiting for you in your own quarters, then come to mine and we can rest a bit. That's more than enough."

Dimitri frowned at how easily she dismissed him, as he had felt how tense her entire body was even from simply giving her shoulders a rub, and he had no intention of allowing her to be so quick to deny herself anything. Even if all she wanted was a simple chance to share a bed again after a few days, it simply didn't feel fair. And with a playful, evil smile, his hands slid down her sides to grasp her hips as he shook his head and tutted, "Now, that won't do... You can't be denying me every time this comes up. If you won't allow me to treat you, then I suppose you leave me no choice but to beg for forgiveness rather than ask permission."

"What are you-" Raine's words died in her throat as Dimitri knelt down without waiting, and he slid her legs apart before she could have enough time to react. His hands were quick as they flicked her belt open, and quicker still as he lifted her hips to pull down her trousers just enough to give him access to her. He was so damned strong, and she cursed herself for forgetting that fact as he so easily had her trousers and legging down before she could even think twice about trying to fight him. She flushed as she realized his intent, hands flying to his hair in a desperate attempt to make him quit as she began hastily, looking from him to the door and then back to him as she argued, "Wait, wait, wait, you can't do this here, what if someone walks in?! At least take me to my room before you start anything!"

"I don't recall you complaining so much when I took you in the chapel shortly after we took back Arianrhod..." Dimitri mused lazily, and despite her hands pulling at his hair, it was easy enough to ignore as he parted her legs still further and kissed at her now bare inner thigh. She froze almost immediately, her breathing catching at the touch, and he hid a smile against her skin despite knowing full well how much he was cheating. She was incredibly sensitive to physical touch. Moreso than anyone he had ever met. All it took was the most innocent of caresses and she melted almost at once, and he knew full well how to take advantage of it, and he did so without a hint of shame. His teeth dragged lovingly across her inner thigh, savouring her shuddering gasp, and his hands tightened on her hips as he continued between kisses and nips, "In fact, I don't believe you ever complained at all..."

When she had come to see him in the chapel only a few weeks ago, when he had been mourning his stepmother and musing on how deep the conspiracy went after interrogating a confessing servant, she had done all she could to remind him that his family of the past did not shackle him from having a family in the future. Despite everything, she was still there for him, and had promised she always would be. He had been overwhelmed in the moment, thinking of nothing but wanting her, needing her, and he hadn't waited then, either despite all better sense cautioning him to do so. Her sweet cries of pleasure as he hid her in an alcove and ravished her body over and over until he had been forced to carry her back to her quarters for more still made him tremble with memory... and from the flushed look on her face when he chanced a look up at her, he knew she was relishing the memory, too.

"Relax and enjoy it, my beloved... I'll make you forget everything else soon enough, I promise." Dimitri muttered as his kisses trailed further inward, and she tensed in answer, hissing as his tongue playfully brushed at the already damp fabric of her smallclothes. She was so easily manipulated that it almost made him feel guilty for having his way with her, but when her fingers ceased their pulling and instead curled themselves into his thick blond mane to hold him still... He didn't feel entirely too bad. She wanted it just as much as he did, and even a few days apart was enough to drive him mad with want. It was selfish, he knew that, but as his fingers slid past that one frail barrier to feel her slick, wet heat as he began to play and probe... He didn't care.

"Nn...!" Raine groaned, unable to help herself as her legs parted instinctively to give him more access to her as he began to play with where she was already aching for him. She well remembered the chapel, and though now with hindsight did she feel embarrassment and shame for what they had done there... In the moment, as he had said, she hadn't complained once. No, she had allowed him to do what he pleased with her, making her scream his name for the Goddess herself to hear over and over with his fingers, his tongue, and finally his body, up against the cold stone walls until her legs had given out. He hadn't cared who may overhear despite the late night, and after his first caress, nor had she. She knew it made her a hypocrite, but she was so damned weak against pleasure that there was simple nothing she could do. Her body betrayed her as it always did, hips arching forward, urging for more, and his name escaped her in a breathless little whimper she couldn't control, "Dimitri..."

"Yes, Professor?" He knew it was cruel, calling her by her title while he was doing this to her, and her eager moan as his fingers slid in deep where he knew she wanted him the most only proved it. Her reaction was instantaneous. It flipped a switch, making her numb to anything else but him, and reminding them of all they could have stolen when things had been forbidden. The thrill of it made them ache and throb and want, and indulging in it only made the fire burn hotter. His tongue scraped along that sensitive bundle of nerves nestled between her thighs, and the answering moan of agonized pleasure only made him want to give her more, but he paused for a moment, eyes flickering upwards as he asked huskily, "Do you want me to stop...? Or shall I continue for you?"

"Goddess, no... K-Keep going..."

Dimitri hid a smirk, and his free hand lifted her hips just a little to ease her posture as his tongue again went to work pleasuring her. Her moans echoed in the empty hall, but he delighted in the sounds as her nails pricked at his scalp and her legs wound themselves about his broad shoulders. He would continue until she begged for mercy, and he would carry her back to her quarters afterwards for more before the night was through. She could sleep as late as she wished, he'd guard her door and keep her company to make up for the days they had spent apart. It was the least he could do to reward her for the effort and courage she had displayed tonight. But for now... His fingers delved in deep, milking out groans and whimpers that made him throb with want, and her taste urged him further in giving her all she could ask for, and usually would not. She wouldn't complain. She never did... and it made him bold, reckless and hungry as he nipped her thigh and whispered back in obedient assent, "As you wish, my beloved..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> They're a pair of horny young lovers, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it! -ducks a frying pan- That and they have a lot of time to be making up for, and they jump on every opportunity every chance they get. Of course, it doesn't mean that there still aren't bumps along the road, and that things are absolutely perfect between them (Dimitri in particular always says he never will fully recover from his PTSD, which is a rather realistic take on things, speaking as a fellow sufferer), but, as always... This series really does stand on the rule of taking what happiness you can get, whenever you can get it, because life is cruel and doesn't go by your schedule. War makes that even more of a cruelty, and these kids, now young adults, have been mired in it for so long that they all deserve every little pinch of joy they can grasp, even in the worst of times.
> 
> Now, this was not entirely meant to be a "Raine bashing on her advisors" chapter, though it did kind of turn that way halfway through. But, considering things, I find her anger and her disappointment to be completely valid. Even against Rodrigue, who by far and large is the most helpful presence in Azure Moon despite his untimely demise. Now, my personal feelings for Gilbert aside (and they aren't pleasant ones), I am aware Seteth is a staunch supporter of Byleth, but this is not Byleth. This is Raine, who is sick and tired of the secrets she knows are being kept from her, and Seteth in this work has not supported her sufficiently. He makes his loyalty to Rhea clear at the outset, which, for Raine and Warin both, is a sign that he is not to be trusted. And furthermore, considering his attitude to them both despite Rhea's insistence that they be brought into Garreg Mach for work, is it any real surprise that the siblings hold onto their mistrust and dislike of him?
> 
> Now, be aware that once again I am writing from the perspective of people who are not read into the truth as we as readers are. We are aware that Seteth and Rhea had their reasons to keep their secrets, (whether are not those reasons are good is debatable) but they did keep their secrets, and not everyone is happy to be kept in the dark, especially in life and death situations. This story, while definitely driven by the Nabatea and their history and actions from a narrative standpoint, does not mean that they are the focus, or even will be portrayed sympathetically from the POV of the main characters. Their lives have been damaged, almost to the point of ruin, several times because of the secret-keeping of both Rhea and Seteth, and they are only acting in response to the treatment they have received. Sometimes, no matter how genuine an apology is, or much goodwill is shown... People do not forgive, and that, also, is a realism I wanted to show.
> 
> Raine and Warin, and even Dimitri, are all heavily damaged characters, and are all quite biased in their own ways. The same can be said of Seteth and Rhea, and I won't dispute that for a moment. I'm very aware of the tragedies they've faced, and why they act as they do, but it does not absolve them, nor should it. Byleth is a character capable of great acts of forgiveness and pity and empathy, and this is not a bad thing. However... Raine isn't Byleth. Nor is Warin. They are their own characters with their own will and feelings and logic, and are only acting as they would with the information they have. Will that change when the truth arrives? Perhaps it will. Perhaps it won't. But I am certain that they are not wrong for feeling as they do, and I don't intend to change how I am writing.
> 
> Again, however, this isn't an anti-church route by any means, anymore than Verdant Wind was. The main pillars of this story are "truth", "growth", and "love". This isn't me as an author with a vendetta against Seteth, or Rhea, or even Edelgard, despite the fact that they are all being shown in a not-so-kind light right now. There is much to be liked about the three above, much to be debated about them, and much to enjoy about what they bring to the narrative, on every route of the game. I do not really dislike anyone in 3H, though I may like some characters more than others... but this story, while being written by me, isn't about me. It's about the characters, and how they react and respond, not how I would.
> 
> Anyway, I've done enough explaining for the night, and I've got another monster headache that kept me out for most of the day. I need to eat something, drink a lot of water, and then rest as best as my head will allow me. Thanks as always for reading, and if you feel the need, please drop me a review. I'm always so glad to get word from my readers, and I'll see you again soon with another chapter! Have a good one, guys!
> 
> Mood: Adamant.
> 
> Listening To: "Battle Symphony" - Linkin Park
> 
> ~ Sky


	19. Laying Down Bait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: Friendship, Action/Adventure, Mystery.
> 
> Characters: Warin, Marianne, Lorenz, Raine, Dimitri, Claude.
> 
> Summary: It was a clever plan, drawing back his own men to lure the Empire's forces deep into Derdriu for the incoming reinforcements of the rebellion, and when the crash came, the crash came hard and without mercy. The invading army was broken and scattered, with their leader desperate to regain balance and control. All of their carefully laid schemes had fallen apart, and he was now open and made a target, and he could only hope he would escape this catastrophe with his life intact now that his mission had failed.

**Garland Moon**

**Derdriu (Inner City)**

**Midday**

Warin hated to admit it, but it was genius what Claude had managed to do in the short few moons he had had to prepare himself for the Imperial invasion that had reached all the way to Derdriu. The Empire had been wise in leaving the Kingdom to itself, withdrawing still further after their successive victories in Grondor, Fhirdiad and Arianrhod, and instead focussing their exhausted and splintered forces into the depths of the Alliance territory in a wild, frantic surge for victory. Even if they lacked the manpower to hold the territory entirely, felling Claude and his generals would have been a boon... and Claude had known and prepared for it the moment he and his forces had pulled back from Grondor.

The bait had been easy enough to lay, and easier still for the Empire to take, and now they were waging a pitched battle in the streets of the port city, and were losing sorely. With the Hero of Daphnel holding the gates until the rebellion could arrive, and the navy of Almyra bolstering their forces from the sea in the east, the Empire had walked headlong into a battle they simply could not win. Claude's defences were heavy, and now with the Kingdom attacking from the rear, decimating their incoming reinforcements and now pressing them into a box... It was clear why Claude had been so utterly confident in his victory from the outset.

Still, Warin didn't allow for himself to think too hard on his situation as a whole as he whirled and fenced with his enemies, his lance singing through the air as it stabbed, swept, and sliced through armour and flesh to drop a soldier each time he let it fly. Familiar faces were everywhere, also fighting for their homeland, and it was a distracting, but welcome sight to know that even Marianne and Lorenz had made it home safely, and were now doing their part to defend Derdriu to the last. Raphael had leapt headlong into the melee at the first sight of his old friend Ignatz, and he, with Hilda and Flayn, had created a maelstrom of chaos that was absolutely impenetrable to any advancing forces. No Imperial troops were getting beyond the gate to the open ports and the sea, where Claude had sent the civilians to safety. The city was empty of all the smallfolk, and there was no reason to hold back in fear of harming innocents, or needing to focus on protecting them from themselves or the enemy, as there had been in Fhirdiad.

Every single soldier there could fight without restraint, without concern or fear, and that made the rebellion's forces all the more brutal and strong. They had held back in Fhirdiad, afraid of the damage they would wreak on their home and the people who refused to escape, and though they had won the day... It had taken a toll of injuries, weakness, and exhaustion. Here, there were no rules, and no concerns of such things. There was only the mission. The rout... and to to be fighting side by side with their fellow classmates again, with full confidence, without hesitation... It would not be a long battle, but it would be a vicious one.

Raine had set up a simple strategy once she had seen the plan that Claude had concocted, and adding her own tactical knowledge to Claude's schemes only meant the fighting would end all the quicker. When she had seen the boats lined up in the port, she had swiftly taken her forces and divided them in two, sending half into the city, while the other half took a longer route outside the gates to meet Claude, and exterminate the coming reinforcements. A three-pronged strike, with herself, him, and Claude leading would be the best, and most devastating approach for the already boxed in Imperial troops. They would have no way to escape with all of their exits blocked, and though it would cause them to fight all the harder... It also ensured not one soldier would be able to flee and return to Enbarr with the news of their failure.

"More men for the pasture..." Warin muttered under his breath as his lance spun, sending his opponent's sword flying wide to give him a chance to withdraw just enough to slam the blade into his enemy's exposed throat. It would be difficult, burying all the bodies and cleaning out the port city's streets when all was said and done, but that was the way of war. He was only grateful Raine had given him the duty of hunting down the Alliance's snake head, even if it did mean throwing him directly in the path of the worst danger. But she and Dimitri were needed by Claude, and she trusted no one else with challenging another of the member of the dark-robes. Tomas and Kronya had been powerful foes five years ago, and no one had trusted the idea of a straight fight with Cornelia, either. Lord Arundel, or whatever his name truly was, was also a foe that would require strength to beat... Strength, stamina, and cunning that no military general would ever be prepared for.

Warin could see his target much more easily now, astride his horse and commanding his troops to spread out in a futile attempt to take the town despite the forces that had overrun it. All he had heard of the true Lord Arundel was not proving true with the man who was now wearing his face. He was said to be a smart man, a keen tactician and a sharp warrior, but this man was proving himself much different. Scattering his troops to be taken down by the waves of reinforcements was an act made from anger and frustration, not out of intellect. He rode from his horse from well behind the lines, refusing to take part in the battle until it came to him, and when he had seen Dimitri refuse to enter the city to meet him, his frustration had only become more apparent.

'Ruses upon ruses... They truly are trying to break him back down again... To what end?' Warin allowed his thoughts to flow as freely as his lance as soldier after soldier fell to it. Only twice had he suffered a close call, and his gauntlets had quickly ended any threats that had come too close to him. From behind, Lorenz and Marianne were clearing out the path he was carving forward, well enough back that he did not need to concern himself with their movements, but still within range should the tides move against them for him to feel secure in pushing onwards. Lorenz was a keen student and knew the better fighter when he saw one, and he was more than happy to allow Warin to do the heavy lifting if it meant he could keep Marianne from the more intense fighting.

'Cornelia claimed she wanted Dimitri and the princess to kill one another... If that truly is their plan, I suppose that means they intend to take over the continent once ridding the world of the current heirs... Lofty goal, but they've the power and the planning to achieve it. They've proven that by now...' Warin's body moved of its own will despite his occupied thoughts, ducking, dodging, weaving throughout the waves of his opponents and striking back without mercy or hesitation. His lance's blade was streaked crimson and his clothes flecked with gore, but it bothered him not a whit, nor did it slow him down. He had been in worse battles before... and he well understood the need to conserve himself for the enemy ahead of him.

"I suppose I'll simply ask when I get there, won't I?" Warin bared his teeth in a dark, cold smile, and he smashed his shoulder against the chest of the soldier in front of him before his gauntlet came up at neck level to slice through his throat. It was a quick, clean death, better than being stuck on the end of a lance at the very least, but he felt little need for the mercy. It wasn't as if the troops underneath this "Lord Arundel" had been keen to show any. He had seen the state of the gates, as well as the Hero of Daphnel before Marianne had convinced her to draw back and tend to her wounds. Judith had fought valiantly with a small retinue of her own men against troops a dozen times her own, and hadn't given them an inch, but her injuries had betrayed how taxing that effort had been. And the flames that had scorched the walls, the gates, and every house within range of the Empire's spellcasters had proven just how eager they were to burn Derdriu completely to the ground.

Warin levelled his lance, taking in a breath to steady himself as he sighted his target now that he had a moment of peace to himself. There were more soldiers ahead, but they weren't aware of his presence yet, and more importantly, were standing between him and his enemy. He trusted Lorenz and Marianne with his back, and he tensed and then relaxed his grip on his lance as he made sure of his arm. He was no sniper, but Shamir had taught him much of how to land a target when throwing his lance, and he had grown rather proficient at the art. He rolled back his shoulder, hand clenching before he threw.

There was an anguished squeal, followed by shouts of dismay and shock as the great white steed his enemy had been riding took the lance in the throat and crumpled, throwing its rider from its back as it rolled and bucked in its death throes. Warin allowed himself a pulse of pity for the creature, wishing instead it, like its rider, had been a beast rather than a simple mount, but he gave himself no more time for emotions. He surged forward, pressing both buttons on his gauntlets to extend their blades as he dove head-first into the melee of the confused and scattering honour guard. The lance had flown too fast and strong, clearing the horse's entire throat, and that was more than enough to strike fear into any ordinary soldier. Seeing their commander suddenly be bucked and tossed off of his horse, rolling in the dirt and clearly just as caught off guard had created the exact chaotic scene Warin needed to close without being overcome by their sheer numbers.

The honour guard didn't amount to much when his gauntlets went to work, and with practised ease, Warin dodged about swinging axes, slashing swords, and probing lances. All of them were too slow, too unwieldy, and handled with too much panic to ever come close to landing a true, worrisome blow. It was truth for every retinue, that once the general became incapacitated, the remaining soldiers panicked and lost more than half of their strength on fear alone. It was a tactic his father had taught him, and never once had it failed him in practice.

Warin became a ghost amongst the crowd, the silver blades affixed to his gauntlets hissing through the air and slicing flesh with ease. Weapons dropped with hands still attached to their hilts, throats shone with wet crimson necklaces, and armour bent and shredded with terrible screeches. The number of enemies he faced didn't matter. He had fought far more in his exile, and he feared no advantage of warm bodies. He was a mercenary, and fear on the battlefield had been beaten out of him before he had even entered puberty. There was no room for it in the midst of the blood and the death. If he wished to live, he could not afford to feel fear. He could not acknowledge that it even existed. Instead, he could only move. Move, fight, and survive.

A sizzling screech on his left made him turn and bend backwards instinctively, and the rippling surge of fire passed his face by less than a few inches. It scalded his flesh, a powerful reminder of just what kind of foe he was facing as the last of the troop fell at his feet, and Warin shook his arms as he turned in the direction the spell had come from. His eyes were narrowed as he watched the figure that wore Lord Arundel's body stalking towards him, his face turned into a ferocious scowl, and he met him with calm, cold malice of his own. He spoke casually, almost conversationally as he shook the blood from his forearms and remarked errantly, "I won't call you Lord Arundel, since we both know that isn't your name... Are you the one they call Thales, or is he away somewhere, scurrying behind the princess?"

A bolt of lightning was the reply, and Warin leapt to the left as soon as he saw the sparks in the man's hand, rolling on the ground to come back to his feet as the spell exploded exactly where he had been standing moments before. His eyes narrowed, and his hands clenched tighter before he kicked up a fallen lance out of the hand of a felled Imperial soldier. He gripped it loosely, noticing that deepening scowl on the approaching man's face, and it made him smirk despite himself... He had hit a nerve, and he reared back verbally, applying all the force he had as he commented again in that same, derisively calm tone, "Scurrying it is, then. I can see why. You've lost three of your "good" men already, and had two pretty shameful losses in the past moon. I'd be tucking my tail as well, if I were you."

Fire came again, though this time Warin held his ground, finding the centre of the ball of flames that was hurtling towards him and stabbing hard at it with the tip of his lance. The spell snarled as it passed him by in two clean halves by millimetres, burning the edge of his shoulders and arms as it went, but missing everything else that it otherwise would have set aflame on contact. He was too used to mages to fear them even if he was no mage himself, and nothing that had been sent his way was anything that could surprise him. Yet, he hadn't received a reply, and it made him push harder even as the mage stepped closer, his anger growing more and more apparent on his face, "Or perhaps you _are_ Thales, here to see things done personally after your hope for the future got her arse handed to her so easily in Grondor when she took to the field?"

Warin watched the image of the dark-haired man shimmer, as if too much heat had cast up an illusion, and his eyes tried to refocus to better fix on his target. The moment cost him, as abruptly the man he had thought to be at least twenty paces away suddenly materialized right in front of him, his hands glowing with magic as he demanded in a low, hissing snarl, "How do you know this, brat?"

Instinct and only instinct saved him as those glowing hands reached for his throat, and Warin's arms came up to slash down hard on the offending limbs with brutal efficiency. The man withdrew, his image flickering now as if he was standing in a pitch-black night when a lightning storm was raging, and for a brief second, Warin was thoroughly confounded by what he was seeing. The shape of Lord Arundel transformed into an old, white-skinned and white-haired man clad in dark robes, and the two flickered against one another over and over as he clutched at his arm as blood sprayed from the wound in his wrist. Then the image of the nobleman faded, replaced with the older, robed mage, and his milky-white eyes were narrowed and furious as he repeated himself in a raging snarl, "How is it that you know these things?!"

Warin had no reply in him, too shaken by the sudden change in appearance, and he could only dodge and weave as those glowing hands reached for him again. He didn't want to imagine what would happen if even a single finger was laid on his skin, and he rolled backwards to put a healthy amount of distance between them as he quickly began to re-evaluate his opponent. This was indeed the man his sister and Dimitri had described, thick dark robes, white skin, whiter hair, and eyes that looked as though they belonged to the blind. It was as if he had never seen the sun, but it was clear he was every bit a fighter nonetheless.

Clenching his hand about his lance, Warin weighed the new weapon with some annoyance. It was heavier and thicker than the lances he preferred to fight with, but it would do for the moment to keep the mage at bay. Unlike any other spellcaster he had seen before, this one wished to close with him, and wanted to do so badly. Most preferred to keep their distance because of their physical frailty, or out of pragmatism. Magic didn't care about the caster once it was unleashed, and it would harm anyone and everyone within its radius. Even the most unskilled of mages knew that fire burnt without consideration, and yet this sorcerer didn't seem to care. Was it an immunity to pain, or that much bloodlust? Warin wasn't certain, and that made him hesitate to give his opponent what he wanted.

So instead he held back, gamely dodging the fireballs that were thrown at him with all the effort of tossing stones. This was a sorcerer that would look upon Hubert and laugh at him for his supposed skill, and Warin was quickly understanding he had underestimated his foe. If _this_ was truly Thales, and _this_ was his power, then his being in Derdriu was no coincidence. And he could better understand now why Edelgard had aligned herself with such poisonous puppeteers. Their raw strength, their numbers and abilities made them perfect allies of convenience... and would make them the most terrible of enemies once they decided they had no more use for the woman they had crafted into the Flame Emperor.

"You aren't as good at keeping secrets as you believe you are. The wench you sent to impersonate Cornelia was more than happy to share her tales before we sent her back to the hellscape you lot crawled out of." Warin parried the snarled question with an equally barbed answer, and he caught the next fireball on his lance's tip once more, slamming it apart and hissing as sparks and cinders fell onto his unprotected skin to burn eagerly at his flesh. There was seemingly no end to his spells, as if he had endless amounts of stamina, but Warin continued the game all the same, knowing he had no choice now that they were circling one another, "We know a fair deal about you and your machinations, despite being little rodents. Which means you _are_ Thales. I'm glad to meet you, if you can believe it... I've been aching to kill you for almost six years."

"You dream large, as all your kind do. But will you still dream when your eyes lay open in death, I wonder? You cannot kill me, boy." The answer came smooth and calm, though there was still anger twisting his wrinkled face as he once again abruptly closed the distance with a flash of black magic. He reached, this time his hand making contact and closing around the mercenary's left forearm as shadowy flames burst from his fingers. His victim snarled in pain, bringing a cruel, eager smirk to his face as he tightened his hold, allowing his magic to spread along his arm to feast on his whole body as he growled, "Whatever you may know will die with you. You and your petty little grudges that mean less than the dust in the wind."

"You're the reason my father is dead, you bastard!" Warin roared as the pain in his arm shot upwards into his shoulder and down into his fingers. He felt his strength in his right arm bursting in answer, his Crest responding to his sudden agony and his rage, and he drew back his fist and let it fly with all of his might for his enemy's face. For once, he held nothing back as he felt his Crest's strength surging through his blood. He had no fear of what he could damage, or what amount of pain he could inflict. For once, he _wanted_ to hurt, he wanted to maim, and that single-minded emotion blinded him almost as much as that hideous heat that was melting his gauntlet into his arm.

He heard the blades make contact, slicing skin before the barbed knuckles cracked into his target with a sickening crunching noise. The cheekbone gave way underneath his massive strength, as did every bone in his fingers from the sudden collision and the amount of force put behind them. Yet, for the moment, Warin felt the adrenaline bury the pain, and he was glad for it as he wrenched his other arm free of the suddenly weakened grip, and he twisted his body about, lifting his left leg to deliver a bruising kick to the keeled-over man. He sent him into the air and rolling onto the ground, and his arms hung useless, smoking, dripping molten metal and burning, but he ignored it as his eyes flashed fire of their own as he hissed through tightly gritted teeth, "You'll pay for everything you've been behind. My father... Remire... Everything will come back to haunt you. I won't let you go quickly. I'll break every bone in your body and make you beg for mercy before I kill you. You'll die nice and slowly. I'm not above torturing monsters."

"That... Crest...?!" Spitting blood and teeth, Thales rose as his mind spun almost as painfully as his body did as it tried and failed to absorb the shock of what had just happened. He hadn't been struck with such force in years, and he recognized that exact strength even though every inch of his brain told him it was not possible. He had studied in the shadows for years. Had hunted down the bloodline to its last living ancestor, waiting for the right moment, for the right vassal, and yet...? His eyes whirled in his head, and he ignored the broken bones in his face as he looked in complete confusion to the no-name mercenary who stood in front of him, seething with hatred and rage despite his injuries.

His left arm hung limply at his side, his gauntlet so twisted from the magical flames that it was falling off of him as he brutally shook it away. The metal had burnt itself into his skin, no doubt causing an unimaginable kind of agony, and blood was flowing freely down his broken and twisted fingers of his right hand as well. Yet he showed no sign of pain in his face. Instead there was only that hatred and anger twisting his features into a fearsome scowl, and indeed, Thales felt a shiver of fear crawl up his spine. He was not meant to fear anything but the Fell Star, who was the one being alone capable of bringing everything to ruin... Yet this boy, this child, had somehow upset everything he had believed to be fact with one swing of his arm. It was not possible. It could not be possible. He had made certain of it himself that the Hresvelg bloodline was whittled down to one person and one person only, and the only other being with that Crest was currently held in Enbarr in chains.

"How is it that _you_ bear the Crest of Seiros?!"

"Do you not know me? Then you've made a gigantic mistake." Warin laughed despite himself, allowing the adrenaline and the rage to drive him forward and through the pain. He couldn't feel his arms at all below the shoulder, but he knew he would eventually, and when he did it would be enough to make him wish he'd lost one entirely to the fire. But for the moment, for this singular moment, his world had narrowed to one focal point, and he cast all of his attention and effort onto it. The broken and trembling man before him, cradling his bruised ribs and gaping at him as if he had somehow brought down the Goddess herself with his arm. The foe he'd been yearning to kill since the day he'd realized what had happened to his father. "You calculated for my sister well enough, yet somehow you forgot about me? No matter. You can ask of my bloodline when I kill your little empress and bring her down to the flames to join you. It's better you die to an anonymous sellsword. You don't deserve a death to be written into the annals of history."

Those accursed dark sparks started again, and realizing exactly what it meant, Warin bared his teeth in a snarl as he rushed forward unthinkingly. He only made it three steps before the damned sorcerer was gone, disappearing just as he had every single time before justice could come to him with its cold steel and deathly embrace. He cursed aloud, spinning about on his heel in desperation to find his foe as the pain began to seep through his clouded senses and reminded him of just what kind of state he was in. He roared to the void, not caring if Thales could no longer hear him as his heart twisted with a cruel sense of failure and anguish, "Damn you! Damn the lot of you! I'll kill you yet, you bastard! I'll put _all of you_ in the ground!"

The pain roared in answer, bringing him to his knees as the rush of adrenaline cleared and brought him back to the present with little mercy. His arms were in tatters. Everything his gauntlet had covered was burnt horribly by the metal, and on the other, broken because of his punch. Bones were peeking through the skin of his fingers, a warning of how much strength he had used without consideration, and he snarled in agony as he cradled his useless limbs to his chest. He'd failed, and failed horrendously. Failed to subdue the commanding officer, failed to find vengeance for Remire and his father... It made his teeth grind down until his molars whined, but he was numb to it as his mind began to sort through the things he now needed to do with his failure hanging over him like a guillotine.

He tried to push himself to his feet, his sister's face blazing in his mind, but hands manifested on his shoulders to hold him down. He struggled blindly, unsure and momentarily caught off guard, but those hands were surprisingly strong before a soft, gentle voice was speaking somewhere above him, "Sir Warin, please... Stay still. You're horribly wounded. You cannot be rushing off anywhere with the state you're in. Please, allow me to tend to you. The battle is over. You've chased off the last foe in Derdriu."

Numbly, Warin digested the facts that Lorenz and Marianne had caught up to him, and he sat in silence as Marianne sat him back down without any effort. Lorenz was watching over them with careful, concerned eyes, but Marianne paid him no heed. Her attention was for the wounded mercenary in front of her, and her hand glowed a gentle shade of blue as a calm, soothing wave of cold emanated from her palm to attend to the burning remnants of the gauntlet that had melded into his flesh. Her voice was somehow calm and gentle despite the horrific look of the injuries, and she held Warin's worse-off arm still with her free hand when she apologized, "I'm afraid this is likely beyond my skill to heal entirely, but I will do my best... Lorenz, can you please call someone to assist me? Anyone with the energy will do, but if you can find Flayn, I'd prefer her expertise. She's always been one of our better healers when it comes to broken bones."

"Yes, right away, Marianne."

"Lorenz." Warin spoke quietly, coming back to his senses as some dull, detached part of him remembered that Flayn had held the northern gate alongside Raphael and Hilda, close to where his sister had been stationed for the majority of the battle. He knew already he was not about to make it there himself, not when he was in the state he was in, but Lorenz had come out of the battle much better than he had. He looked up and over Marianne's head, catching the noble's eye and ignoring the surprised look on his face. He supposed he had to look even worse than he felt, but he didn't allow it to bother him overmuch. His priorities meant more than his vanity, and he made that clear as he told him calmly, "Find my sister, and deliver a message on your way. Tell her Thales got away, and they don't know our bloodline. She'll understand. She needs to know this immediately if she wants to have any hope of getting an upper hand on Claude."

"Of... Of course. I shall do so post haste." Lorenz agreed after only a moment of confusion, and from Marianne's furrowed brow, he could tell that she didn't quite understand Warin's urgency either. He decided however that it did not matter. His debt to the professor, to her family and thereby also to the Kingdom ran deep. He had no intention of forsaking that debt, even if it meant reducing himself to a messenger. They had done too much for him and his homeland and love. He would gladly do anything they asked with no complaints, if it meant giving them even the slightest edge against their enemies. It was the least he could do. He spared one quick, caring look for Marianne, who offered him a gentle smile and nod, before he turned his mount north and began hurrying for the docks, where he knew both Flayn and Raine were, as he had been tasked.

Left behind, but not at all concerned, Marianne continued with her task of soothing the burn and carefully, tenderly, picking away the shards of metal that his ruined gauntlet had left behind in the mercenary's forearm with her free hand. She was astonished by the amount of damage he had fought with, and yet as he shrugged carefully out of his armour to give her full access to his arms, she had to bite her lip to stop herself from gasping aloud. He was a mess of scar tissue from neck to waist as he bore himself to her without hesitation to ease her work, and the burn that was currently on his arm almost seemed like nothing in comparison to the other tattered memories of wounds that decorated his body.

Still, Marianne didn't allow for it to shock her, nor stymie her work. She had seen plenty of bloody, ugly wounds in her service to House Gloucester since she had been taken in by Lorenz. She had spent much of her time in the chapel, but once Lorenz had been called to the front, she had followed after him dutifully. The Bridge, back then, had been under constant assault, and she had taken up a position in the infirmary to treat the soldiers as best she could in return for Lorenz' kindness. She had no fondness for the Imperial troops, but she had her magic, and she knew she had to use it to the best of her abilities even if she disliked those she was healing. Lorenz had tried valiantly to keep her sheltered from the war, something she had appreciated, but now, being thrust back into it... Marianne had to admit she was almost glad she was back inside of the Alliance.

Here, she was home. Here, she was among her friends, her comrades and schoolmates, and here she felt both needed and wanted. Here she could help, and she did so gladly. She was grateful for their kindness, for the professor's trust and warmth, and she put all of her focus now into healing her elder brother in payment. The gentle wind of cold subsided as the fierce red tinge of the burn began to fade back into a normal shade of pink, and she immediately changed spells and arms, now focussing on mending the shattered bones she could feel even in her gentlest grip. How had he hurt himself so horrendously? These weren't wounds he had gotten fighting a defensive battle. She knew as much from her time on the field. Still, she spoke softly, calmly to both ease him and herself as she felt the wound responding to her healing with slow, painful effort, "Forgive me if this hurts you more, Sir Warin... This damage is immense... I'll do what I can, but you will need a second healer. I imagine you'll feel more comfortable in familiar hands regardless, when Flayn arrives."

"And here I had hoped you'd finished with putting yourself down after five years away from Garreg Mach. Old habits are hard to break, aren't they?"

Marianne blinked, surprised and caught off guard, and she looked up from her work to see Warin watching her with careful, quiet eyes. His navy gaze was piercing, but it wasn't at all sharp. Rather, it almost seemed... sad. It made her take pause, and she wondered how it was he seemed to know her habits so well. He had never interacted with her back in her student days. Really, no one truly had made such an effort besides her own classmates, and even then, they had been few. She had found a true friend in Hilda, and someone she loved dearly in Lorenz, and yet Warin seemed to speak as if he knew her just as well. It made her unsure, and a little bit embarrassed, and she shook her head a little before questioning somewhat hesitantly, "E... Excuse me?"

"I watched you, back in the academy. Mostly by accident, since you were so frequently visiting the chapel. The bridge overlooks the cemetery. I always saw you coming and going." Warin answered tiredly, and he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, exhaling through his nose as he fought the pain that continued to surge hot and heavy through his limbs. He was feeling the full weight of his wounds now, but he forced it down and from his face as best he could, and instead turned to memory in order to numb it. It wasn't something he cared to admit, but he was reaching for something, anything, to distract himself from his failure and his pain, and unluckily, she was the one there to care for him. He would apologize to her later, when he was in a better state of mind, but for now he reached selfishly for the one lifeline he had to detach himself from his situation as he explained, "You're rather devout, which I thought strange considering your homeland. The Alliance is so close to so many outside territories that belief in the Church of Seiros isn't as widespread as the church would probably like. But you always attended. Always looking so sad and self-loathing. I'd heard you looked much better through Raine, that Lorenz had taken you in after the fall of the monastery... I hoped that meant you were feeling more confident about your place in the world. Or at least had stopped hating yourself so much."

"How did..." Marianne halted herself mid-sentence as Warin looked to her, and the pieces of the puzzle fell into place with ease when he did. His expression was solemn, and his eyes were neutral, but Marianne could see into them easily enough. How could she not? When she had made the same face, time after time, when she had been better practised, and had more energy into keeping the facade going? He knew, because they were alike. The thought sobered her, making her forget herself momentarily, and she shook her head, brow furrowing as she answered him unthinkingly, "Why would you of all people consider yourself useless? Haven't you stood by the professor since the very beginning? You're here, after all of this time... Leading, because the professor believes in you. That isn't unwarranted. You're a talented soldier. A good mercenary. A supportive elder brother. Why would you hate yourself, Sir Warin?"

"Why would _you_ , Marianne? You're a kindhearted woman. You can heal with your magic. Almost every person I've ever met with that ability has been someone I've envied." Warin's reply came swiftly, but not harshly, and he looked at her with eyes that were ten times older than his age would ever suggest. He looked tired. He sounded even moreso. He held himself still for her work, which her hands were doing automatically without her consent, but his stare was piercing, and made her both uncomfortable, and yet somehow surprised. This was rare for him, to speak so honestly, especially to someone he didn't really know, but she listened intently all the same as she understood instinctively he needed to say these words while he had the chance to do so, "Having the ability to heal... To knit wounds, smooth over scars, bring people back from the brink... No one with an impure heart can truly do that. Bloodlines, territories, allegiances aside, no healer is an evil person. They can't be. No one goes into the healing arts wanting to cause harm. They only want to do good things. Altruistic things. I can't do that. I've never had the knack, or the ability. I don't have that kind of heart. I kill instead, because it's the only thing I'm good at. And even when it matters most, I can't seem to put my so-called talents to any kind of use. If I could, that damned bastard would be dead at my feet, and not halfway back to Enbarr by now."

"You feel you failed your father. I see." Marianne shook her head as the understanding came easy and painfully, and it made her smile sadly for him. Of course he was speaking to her about this, so soon after his failure. He couldn't say these words to his sister. She'd likely tear into him for daring to suggest he was at fault for the death of Sir Jeralt. She had not been there, she had not known him well, but she had seen the devastation his loss had caused at Garreg Mach. She had seen the light go out of Raine's eyes, and had seen how desperately the Blue Lions House had rallied about their professor. Even those who weren't her students had reached out... but Warin had stood by her side in support. Who had propped him up, when he had let his sister go?

She shook her head again, her smile sad and bitter before Marianne murmured, "Then I suppose, we _are_ more alike than I thought... I can't admit that I look at myself as you look at me. I can't. I'm... cursed with this blood of mine, and cannot do what I wish I could because of it. But I was born like this, and still... I've come to realize I've friends, nonetheless. People who will support me, even knowing the truth... Or refusing to know, because they don't want me to harm myself by telling them. You should speak to your loved ones, Sir Warin, as I spoke to my own. Perhaps they will bring you peace... as they did to me."

"Maybe I will."

Marianne said nothing as she listened to his lowly whispered answer, and she did not react as she felt warm splashes of tears falling onto her hands as she continued her work on his injuries. He did not need her advice, nor did he need her comfort. She was ill-suited for it, but she could at least heal the wounds in front her until someone who knew him better, someone who understood him more than she did, could come to help him back to his feet. She did not mind though, sitting with him and allowing him to shed what few tears he would allow as the pain of his wounds, of his so-called failure, stung hard throughout her healing. Everyone, even the most strongest amongst them, needed these moments when they could find them. If he had turned to her, even if it was in desperation... Marianne admitted she did not mind it. Rather, she was glad to be able to support him, and she murmured quietly as she laid her hand gently across his burnt and broken forearms, "I intend... to return to Garreg Mach with the professor, after Derdriu is seen to. Lorenz and I have spoken of how we feel we can do more by joining you, than we can by staying here. When that day comes... Would you join me for tea, Sir Warin? I would dearly like to get to know you better. You, and your sister."

"I'm not much of a talker, and I can't brew tea to save my life, but... if it's something you insist on, I wouldn't say no."

"Thank you."

* * *

"Absolutely not."

The two frozen words rang out like a death knell over the still-smoking capital of Derdriu, and everyone present had paused, some in shock, some in amazement, as Raine stood quiet, wrathful, and idly shaking her left hand as she stood over Claude's prone form. She had punched him so hard and so quickly that no one had had any time to react, whether it be to stop her or to simply watch, and now as she glared down at the shakily-raising leader of the Alliance, there was absolute quiet as she idly flexed her smarting hand. She had hit him harder than she had meant to, but she didn't really regret it as she watched him spit out blood from his cut lip as he shakily forced himself back to his feet and off of the ground. She almost, almost, wished she could hit him again, but she knew there was no point in it. His self-affirming words, his selfish actions, his cheer and flippant attitude had triggered her temper, and while she knew it didn't look good, especially considering her audience... Raine had reached the absolute limit of her patience.

Failnaught lay on the ground, tossed aside like some sort of trash when it had been handed over, and the silence was so tense that she imagined she could very well hear a pin drop if anyone had the mind to do so. It wasn't as if she cared, though. His words were still echoing in her ears, flaring her temper and making her wonder just how _right_ her brother had been, and she knew that disgust showed plain and clear on her face despite her audience. The representatives of the Alliance were all there, gathered in Derdriu to protect their capital, and to hear him throw it all away so lightly... Her hands clenched into tight fists, and as Claude rose, she stepped forward threateningly, her voice whipping out like a lash as she repeated his earlier explanation, "The Alliance is no more? You're dissolving it, and shoving it and its people under Dimitri's protection rather than stand up and fight, fight for your land, its people, and your birthright simply because you can't be arsed to continue your little charade? I don't think so, Claude. You don't get to make those kind of calls if this is what you intend to do with the burden of leadership. I won't let you. And if you truly think your people will, I suggest you look around and think a little bit before you find yourself bound, gagged, weighted down with stones, and then tossed unceremoniously into the sea."

Claude said nothing as he rose up fully, wiping the blood from his lip and fearing both her wrath and wondering how instantly he had managed to trigger it despite his best efforts. He hadn't thought her to be so ferociously protective of a land that was not hers to defend, and yet the moment the words had left his mouth of his plans... She had hauled back with blinding speed to punch him, sending him clear off his feet, and he had to admit, from the complete lack of reaction to it by his own people, she likely was right about what kind of end he was setting himself up for. He could see Raphael standing alongside Hilda and Ignatz in the crowd, and his old classmate was looking at him as if he had never seen him before. The gentle giant that he had hated to lose back in his student days to another class had grown into a true, ferocious soldier, and had spent the majority of the battle protecting his old comrades and leader despite the fact that he had nothing to gain by doing so... and it was clear his actions, and his reaction, were setting the tone for the response of his unilateral decision of the Alliance's fate.

Hilda wasn't looking at him, though that in and of itself was not much of a surprise. Ever since the roundtable conference, where her elder brother had fought him ferociously when he had announced the future of the Alliance, she had thrown aside all attempts at maintaining a caring presence for him, and treated him only in a professional sense as she had to by law. It had hurt him, seeing how quickly his trusted partner in crime had turned on him, but he mused that he had no real reason to be shocked. Deep down, he had known Hilda had true love for her home, and even more for her brother and friends. She was lazy and afraid to disappoint, but it never stopped her from picking up her axe and heading out to the battlefield if it meant protecting those who were dear to her. When Claude had applied pressure to House Goneril, forcing Holst to agree with the dissolution, Hilda had taken it as a personal betrayal, and their relationship had fractured irreparably as consequence.

Yet, now... He could see the anger that was flaring in her eyes despite the fact that she still wasn't looking at him. She was reacting to Raine, drawn in by the professor's outrage and finding she had permission to feel as she did, and her hand was trembling about the hilt of her own Relic in response as her mouth thinned into a tight, bitter line. Ignatz laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, his eyes quiet and tired from the fighting, but he stood at her side nonetheless, commoner as he was, to give her the support he knew she needed. He hadn't been there for the politics, for the pressure, but he had found out of the coming fate of his homeland all the same, and rather than anger, all he had shown was a deep sense of sadness. He loved his home, too, even if he had no hope in giving it anything it needed or deserved because of his lack of status, and to see it thrown aside for the Kingdom's so-called benefit had wounded him deeply.

Judith was watching him with a completely neutral expression, though he could feel the weight of her judgement on him all the same. She had argued just as passionately as Holst had when the word had come down, and being barred from the roundtable had meant that she had no choice or power to put behind her voice for her homeland. She could do nothing but tell him he was wrong, that he was making a mistake, and Claude had ignored her entirely. She didn't understand his motives, she barely understood him, and so he had dismissed her concerns summarily, and told her to follow orders rather than insert herself where she didn't belong. The decision was his to make, and his alone as the leader of the Alliance. It didn't matter who argued, or why... His power was absolute, and he intended to do what he could with it, before he made his exit.

The writing was clear on the wall. There was no other way to look at the coming future. He had failed, and the Kingdom stood the greatest chance now at unifying Fódlan. It was simple mathematics to give back the territories that had splintered away in the days of long history, and give his soldiers and lords away to support the dream he could no longer make true with his own hands. It disgusted him, that he had been so summarily robbed, but that was the way of things, he had reasoned. He would step back and leave this little world and its tempest in a teacup, and he would find a way to realize his dreams elsewhere. He had nothing to stay for, nothing that tethered him here as everyone else did, and he would be glad to leave it all behind him if he couldn't bend it to his will.

Now, though... He forced out a laugh he didn't feel, and looked up into the professor's blazing seafoam-green eyes with a touch of wonder and deeply buried anger. Who was she of all people to tell him what to do? Nothing but chance had landed that blade in her hand and given power to the Kingdom, who she had chosen unwittingly to support when she decided to lead their house all those years ago. The Empire had been well on its way to forcing its control over the entirety of the continent, and while he had no love for Edelgard considering her methods, at least someone had made a move to change the status quo and its long held death grip on this place. Yet now, here came the professor, refusing to let it happen by his or by Edelgard's hand, simply because it made her angry? He shook his head slowly, and remarked as he licked his cut lip experimentally, "What do you intend to do to stop me, Teach? It's already been done. All that's left now is for me to officially step down from my position as leader of the Alliance, and what's done will be done."

"If you want to abandon the Alliance and go fleeing off to Almyra, or who knows where else to see your little "dreams" come to fruition, that's your decision to make, and I'll honestly be glad to see the tail end of you. But throwing aside your people while you do it isn't something I'll stand for. Especially considering you want to foist off your mantle and put it onto Dimitri's shoulders on your way out." Raine's reply was cutting and swift, and she stood toe to to with him, challenging, unafraid, and fierce like a mother lion standing in the way of a rival male to protect the cubs that were gathered about behind her. "How many men died today protecting Derdriu? How many have died since the Empire sparked your civil war? Do you know the number? They were never fighting and putting their lives on the line for _you._ They were doing it for the Alliance. And your last act as their leader would be to spit on their graves, turn your back, and say that it's too bad for them, because you don't care about anyone here. You aren't a leader. You're an opportunistic coward. If you don't want the reigns of leadership, hand it over to someone else who will take up the mantle. You've no short supply of successors."

"And leave things as they are, when you've got such a clear path forward to the unity of this continent?" Claude replied just as swiftly, and his eyes narrowed as he wondered how she could be so blind to what this little world needed so sorely. A return to the status quo would mean nothing. All these years of warfare would come to naught if the end came, and things simply returned to the way they were before Edelgard had sparked her little scheme. If she hadn't done it, he would have if that blade had found his hand instead of hers, but luck had not been kind to him, and he had been forced into a role he didn't want, nor care for.

Claude admitted fully and without shame that she was not wrong in saying he didn't care for the people in the Alliance. It was true. He didn't care for anyone in Fódlan. They were the same as all the people he had seen before, and he could not and _would not_ care for such selfish, short-sighted, and ignorant people. What surprised him though was how she seemed to be one of them, after all she had demonstrated to the contrary. She and her brother had been the catalysts of change that this world sorely needed, and he had hoped they would bring the winds with them... but to his disappointment, they were as stagnant as the rest.

"Have you bothered to ask anyone at all if that's what they truly want? Anyone besides you, or the Emperor?" Raine's return was a sharp snarl, and her hands curled so tightly at her sides that she could feel her arms beginning to tremble with the urge to strike him again for daring to say such things when the bodies of his people had still yet to lose their warmth. She had already taken a glance about at her audience, and she didn't need words to know that her opinion was the prevailing one. Hilda was furious. Judith was disappointed. The rest of the Golden Deer were either silently eyeing their leader, or were now looking at her in surprise, and that was more than enough to spur her forward with a snap, "If you bothered to speak for two minutes with Dimitri before making these wild claims, you'd understand that there is no such path in our future. Unity? What sort of unity can there be when it's bought through conquest and blood? This continent would fracture within a generation if we built that sort of world, if we even won with war, and we'd be right back to where we started, or worse, because of the lives that were ruined to create such a so-called utopia. The status quo exists because change can't be forced upon the people through violence. If it doesn't happen organically, with time, with effort, with care, then it will never stick. You place Dimitri as a figurehead for the whole of the continent, and he dies within two decades, maybe less, because no one asked for a king from the Kingdom of Faerghus to rule those living in the Empire of Andrestia."

"She's right, Claude. And moreover. I've no intention of taking a hold of your lands, your lords, or your people. I would prefer to lose this war than take away their sovereignty." Dimitri spoke up on Raine's heels, and he stepped forward, reaching to carefully place a calming, gentle hand on her shoulder as he saw her anger rising. She was truly infuriated in a way he had not seen before, but her words struck him deep all the same. He knew why she was so angry. All of her points were accurate ones, and yet she also was holding a much more personal reason close to her chest and in silence. Now the tables had been turned, now someone was trying to force a mantle onto _his_ shoulders, and her reaction of outrage was something that both touched him, and made him ache. She valued his freedom almost as much as he valued her own, and he had never once thought that would be something she would one day be defending. He stood shoulder to shoulder with her, letting her know he would not step back to let her handle things alone, and he met Claude's disbelieving stare as he told him flatly, "The Alliance will not dissolve only to be "put back together" with the lands of the Kingdom simply because that is your will. I refuse to allow it. I would sooner speak to your lords and see what _they_ wish for, seeing as your opinion will no longer matter once you step down from leadership."

Claude found himself at a loss for words as his well-laid plans were tipped upright, and then cast onto the ground with all the grace of an alley cat finding their way onto a chessboard. It angered him how easily they argued his points, as if they refused to see anything beyond their own noses, but he was well aware of what kind of position he was in. He couldn't force his will on these two, even if he had managed to bend the roundtable conference into seeing things his way. All of the ill feelings and arguing and threats hadn't shaken him an ounce, as he would not be remaining to see the fallout, but here stood the professor and the future king, refusing to allow him his gifts, and rather calling him a fool for thinking his way was the right one. Were they simply that proud, or were they simply that short-sighted? He admittedly could not tell... which only made him think it would be better to see the backs of them than try to convince them otherwise if there were so stubbornly insistent on things.

"Fine. I know what fights I can't win. If that's how you want it, then sort things out yourself as you will. I won't be around to stop you, so it's not as if it's any skin off my nose." Claude waved his hands errantly, pasting on a veneer of disinterest to hide his anger as he shook his head with slow disappointment. They would discover soon enough how poorly they had chosen, and it would not be his mess to clean up when the time came. That alone was the only comfort he could gain from this entire sham of a victory, and he would take it gladly. He was washing his hands of the lot of them. He had failed completely in every single avenue he had made strides in, and it stung bitterly to be aware of it... but what else was there for him now? "But keep the bow, as it is. It belongs here in Fódlan, and I don't want to be taking it with me outside of its borders. I won't need it. You will."

Raine snorted derisively as she glanced at the Hero's Relic she had tossed aside when it had been handed over to her, and she had absolutely no intention of picking it back up. It did not belong in her hands, and she had no use for it as she was. It wasn't as if she had a soldier in her army that could wield it without risking their body and soul to the Crest Stone it bore. She had no need for a Relic's power when it meant sacrificing a man to use it, and it irked her that Claude of all men clearly was aware of that, but saw fit to give it to her all the same as if it was a genuine gesture of goodwill. The only thing she could do with it was hide it, or return it to the Church's hands to give to the next heir-to-be of the Crest needed to wield the bow. To use it meant to put lives at risk, which she would not do, regardless of how desperate she or her army was in need of power, and it made her angrier still that Claude was that eager to abandon everything to see it all put behind him for whatever dreams he had deemed more important than the leadership the Alliance was in sore need of.

"Professor! Word from Sir Warin!"

Lorenz' call brought all eyes to him as he checked his mount at the gates, and the heir to House Gloucester looked a little more than worse for wear as a sign of how vicious the fighting inside of the city had truly been. Raine was both simultaneously relieved and worried to see Lorenz appearing on her brother's behalf, as it meant he was physically incapable of making his way to her himself, but if he had sent word, it also meant he had survived the onslaught. She shoved everything down however, watching as Lorenz looked about himself, taking in the assembly and clearly wondering what it was he had missed before he shook his head and renewed his focus. He locked eyes with Raine, and spoke firmly, clearly, "Your brother sends me with a message. He wishes for you to know that Thales has escaped... and that "they" are also unaware of your bloodline. He said that you would understand, and you were to know immediately."

"How is he?" Raine winced, both at the words and their meaning, and also at the understanding that it meant her brother had come off the worse in this particular battle. She could well imagine he was taking his loss poorly, but she didn't blame him for it, or for his reaction. She hadn't thought killing Thales would be as easy as sending her brother to end him, but she also hadn't assumed it would go so badly that her brother would be incapable of giving her the message himself. To have to lean on others only meant he had come off very badly, even if it was pragmatism to send a trusted ally with the information, and she had to restrain herself from bolting from where he stood and off into the city to check on him personally, all other pressing matters be damned.

"Badly wounded, I fear. He came off poorly in the fighting, though he did indeed drive this so-called Thales off personally. I have also come to collect Lady Flayn, as Marianne is uncertain she can handle his wounds by herself."

"I'll go see to him." Shamir spoke up curtly from her place beside Catherine in the crowd, stopping Raine from formulating a reply, and the Dagdan sniper's eyes were sharp and cold as she dared anyone about her to try and stop her. No one spoke, and she looked to Flayn, beckoning the healer with a wave of her hand to follow before she told Lorenz firmly, "You stay here and attend to this mess, as your most noble voice will be needed in the coming chats. I'll take Flayn and go to him myself. We'll find you if we need you, and if we don't, come looking when this stupidity of yours is settled. Come on, Flayn, and make it quick. I don't want to know what wounds that idiot has that requires _your_ level of skill."

"Of course, Shamir. I am right behind you."

Claude said nothing as he watched Shamir and Flayn race off through the gates where Lorenz had arrived from, and they disappeared with a speed that he was both unsure and wary of. It didn't bode well to hear that Marianne was doubting her abilities and was calling for another healer to help her with Warin's injuries, though he did admit that perhaps she was simply playing it safe considering her patient. He already was well aware that both Lorenz and Marianne had more loyalty to Warin and Raine than to him, but it hadn't bothered him when they had arrived with the message for a coup in Grondor with the Kingdom's aid, nor did it bother him overmuch now. It was not his mess to attend to, and yet... He looked to Raine, eyes narrowed and face pulled back into a scowl as he questioned her sharply, "Thales? Who is that? Lord Arundel was the one in command of the forces inside of the city. Did he escape the fighting early, and leave behind a substitute? And what is this about your bloodlines and "they" not knowing about it? Why is that important information?"

Raine almost smiled as Claude's curiosity reared its head, and mentally she recited a quick prayer of gratitude to her brother for his timing. If anything was to make him forget her animosity towards him, as well as her slights, it would be his desire to uncover her secrets, and the timing was perfect. Still, her worry over Warin made her hesitate, and she was thankful once again when Dimitri raised a hand and stepped forward, placing himself between her and Claude's rapid-fire questioning as if to shield her from having to worry about too many things simultaneously.

"Lord Arundel as you knew of him is dead, Claude. The man you saw today was not him, though he bore his face in battle. Do you remember Tomas, and Monica? It is the same case here." Dimitri answered for her, and, like her, he was glad to see that behind Claude's mask of an uncaring, shallow man, he was immediately leaping forward to grasp at any and all tidbits of knowledge he had been deprived of during his time leading the Alliance forces. Raine's intuition had again paid dividends, which made him hide a grim smile as he kept himself firmly in front of her to spare her the questioning when she was clearly so ill at ease over the news of her brother's wounds. He inserted himself smoothly into the conversation now, dangling the bait as he knew he must and hoping it would be leapt for again as he explained, "It is a very long story, but should you choose to remain here, and give us aid as we need... I see no reason to keep it from you. Our enemies have made their moves more clearly than they have in the past during our school days... The time is almost ripe for us to root them out. An endeavour that would be made much easier with your personal help."

"You intend to keep me around by dangling about secrets, do you? Not a move I would have ever anticipated from you of all people, but I'll admit... You've aroused my curiosity." Claude shook his head in wonder, but all thoughts of flight had grown wings themselves and launched themselves out the nearest window and over the crests of the surrounding ocean. It was clear that the two in front of him knew much more than they were saying aloud, and that they had likely planned to use this information to lure him into promising them sorely-needed aid. He was both surprised by their wit and their willingness to stoop to his level to ensure his cooperation, as it only meant that they were fighting a much more difficult battle than he had initially assumed.

Lord Arundel's death was a jarring piece of information that did not sit at all with what he knew of the goings-on inside of the Empire, and it only made him more suspicious of all of the other incidents that had not lined up so neatly in the past five years. For better or for worse, with both Lysithea and Lindhart supplying him with information from the Empire and Ordelia in exchange for being able to sit out the worst of the fighting in order to attend to their "research", he had thought himself well enough appraised of the situation that was the entirety of the south. Dimitri's words were evidence enough that whatever he had missed, or had been hidden deeply enough from him, was exactly what he needed in order to put the whole of the puzzle together.

It was an irresistible lure, and one he was fully aware of having been set in such a manner specifically for him. They wanted and needed him, and the only way to ensure his cooperation was to give him what he wanted and needed in turn. And what else did they have for him but secrets, when there was truly nothing left in Fódlan that would compel him to stay? He had made a name for himself as a snoop and a troublemaker about Garreg Mach as a student, always sticking his nose where it didn't belong and digging where he was not welcome, but he had never had any intention of changing his ways. This continent hid too much of its own history, and the Church of Seiros guarded their lies all the more ferociously. If he wanted the truth, he had to be belligerent, he had to be a thorn in their sides, and he had done his level best to root out all he wished to know, even if he had ended up failing in the end. Now though, on the precipice of defeat, to have his dreams being held within reach...

Claude laughed, unable to help himself at their arrogance, and at their sheer audacity. This had been their plan from the outset, and he had sorely underestimated them by thinking that they were driven only by chivalry. No, the professor had done her homework, and while she cloaked herself in a veil of empathy, behind that kindness was a brain doubly as shrewd as his. She had no problem sinking to his level, especially if it meant getting what she wanted. Dimitri was not that kind of man, not deep down, but his professor could lead him into a flaming building, and he would follow her without hesitation. Her pragmatism was a cold reminder of her true roots as a mercenary, and he again chuckled as he ran a hand through his hair and admitted, "All right. All right, you've caught me... I'm interested enough in sitting down with you, and seeing how deep this rabbit hole goes. I'll put everything on hold for a chance at seeing the truth. You've bought me and my cooperation for a little while longer. Tell me everything."

"In due time, Claude. Once we return to Garreg Mach, where we can speak in confidence, we'll tell you all we know. For the moment, let us attend to Derdriu, the wounded, and the dead. Afterwards, we'll have all the time you can ask for."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> A big problem of mine in AM is the fact that Claude throws everything onto Dimitri without asking for his consent, giving a damn about his people and his responsibilities, and happily ducking out of the conflict the moment it's opportune of him to do so. Despite the fact that he and Failnaught would be a gigantic boon in ending the war with the Empire, (as well as giving him another chance to go digging for the truth of things, as he so constantly is searching for), Claude simply tosses it all aside without a care in the world, or a shred of remorse for it. This, in and of itself, seemed forced in a gameplay sense to stop you from having access to two lords, but in a narrative sense, it simply really falls apart and paints Claude in a very bad light that he doesn't really recover from, especially once his own actions in Verdant Wind are seen up close and personal for contrast.
> 
> I don't imagine that the dissolving of the Alliance was a smooth process, especially considering how proud the men and women of the Alliance actually are about their history and homeland. At the very least, men like Holst and Lorenz would be violently opposed to the idea of simply being absorbed back into the Kingdom, especially after so many generations of finding their feet, acting as independent and strong nations of their own, and working as an "alliance" of like-minded nobles for the good of their homeland, even if the politics and power-struggles are annoying and commonplace. Lorenz in particular only ever speaks fondly of his home, even if he readily admits how flawed its power structure is, and considering Holst is a hero, and also has demonstrated time and time again how willing he is to give his life for his territory and people, I sincerely cannot see either of these two being happy with Claude's decision. Rather, I imagine Claude simply strong-armed them with the threat of stepping down regardless of their arguments, and refusing to pick a successor in either Lorenz or Holst, because his dream matters more to him than the mantle of leadership that was placed on his shoulders, as well as the future and well-being of the people he is supposed to lead and care for.
> 
> This is also something Claude even readily admits, that the mantle of leadership was a means to an end (in his S-Support, he even claims he has used up all of his Fódlan blood, and has no use for it any longer, which is a hell of a bomb to be dropping after a proposal, and before another escape from leadership he set Byleth up for, after again, not asking or caring about their consent on the matter), and he didn't ever really give much of a damn about Fódlan except for what he could dig up on it as an "outsider". Despite all of his claims of wanting unity, and tearing down walls to bring people together, Claude shows the exact same type of ignorance and hate for the "other" that he so frequently rails against. His single-mindedness is selfish, and while he speaks of grand ideals, it's difficult to swallow when he won't look inward and see he's the same type of man he claims to hate, and thinks brute force is the only way to unite the people. In that respect, he's much like Edelgard.
> 
> Which brings up another interesting aspect of AM, which is the complete absenteeism of the thought of "unification". Not once in Azure Moon does Dimitri bring up the fact of unifying all of the continent, but rather, he has it forced upon him. Claude's dissolution of the Alliance, and shoving it all onto his head, is the only time that unification is ever brought up, but it's clear throughout all of Dimitri's story arc that he's not that type of ruler, nor does he aspire to be of that nature. He cares for the continent as a whole, but never once does he consider that ending the Empire means that it becomes his territory to control by right of conquest. His war is with the Empire due to their aggression and involvement in past misdeeds against the Kingdom, his taking in of the Alliance is a choice that's made for him, and he rolls with it because he seemingly has no other recourse... which is an eerily familiar theme to be touching on, considering all that Raine's been through by this point.
> 
> Regardless, I'm aware that this take on Claude is likely to be divisive, but seeing as he needed to be roped into things, and this was the only way I could see it happening with any sort of realism... -shrugs- This chapter has gone on pretty long, and was rather winding and disconnected. I haven't been feeling well again (surprise, surprise), so my writing has taken an ugly hit in response. This is what I wanted the chapter to be, but unfortunately, it doesn't quite feel like it's everything it should be, if that makes any sense? I probably should just go back to sleep... As always, thank you for reading this far, drop me a review should you feel the need, and I shall see you again with my next chapter!
> 
> ~ Sky


	20. Deer and the Lions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: Friendship, Mystery, History, War, Ideology.
> 
> Characters: Raine, Warin, Dimitri, Claude, Flayn.
> 
> Summary: It was meant to be an offering of information, not a trade, but Raine had been surprised to learn Claude had a few tricks left up his sleeve when the long-awaited meeting in the closed-off aisles of the library in Garreg Mach had taken place. He had done his own homework, with what little time and resources he had, and now was the time for everything to be laid out flat on the table. There was still much they did not know, much they needed to figure out, but the pieces of the puzzle were falling together bit by bit. Eventually, the truth would be pulled loose from the shadows, and they would have to face it when that day came. For the moment, however, there was only talk and the idea of future action, which was more than enough than sitting idly on their hands and worrying uselessly in the interim.

**Blue Sea Moon**

**Garreg Mach (Library)**

**Morning**

"So, Teach... What do you remember about the siege on the monastery, five years ago?"

Claude's question was met with narrowed eyes from the other two men in the closed-off library, but Raine knew he wasn't bothered by it as he continued poking about the shelves of books with a furrow to his brow. He had been the one to insist that any and all conversations about the information they had for him take place inside of the library and nowhere else, and though she had initially been puzzled by such a demand, Raine had seen no reason not to humour him. He had put everything in terms of politics within the Alliance on hold, too tempted by their offer of secrets to deny them, and while he had also said he would not participate any longer as the leader of the Alliance in the interim, having him and his men amongst their troops was a sorely needed boon.

Their next target was Fort Merceus, the perfect springboard for an invasion into Enbarr, but the fortress was not nicknamed the Stubborn Old General for nothing. It was massive, and its defences were said to be impregnable. Throughout the entirety of the war Fort Merceus had stood tall and resolute, stopping every single incursion into Enbarr by virtue of position alone, and it was a unanimous decision that not a man could be spared in the taking of it. They needed Claude's cooperation if they wished to be able to land Fort Merceus with the least amount of casualties, and though it irked her, Raine was willing to play along with him if it meant securing his bow for the time being.

Still, this abrupt line of questioning as an opener was confusing, and Raine took pause as she watched him flitting from shelf to shelf, clearly not paying attention to anything outside of his search. It made her wonder what he was looking for, but since he hadn't decided to speak of it first, she knew better than to ask. He was as driven by keeping secrets as he was digging them out into the open, and whatever mysteries he had decided to keep about himself were ones he obviously had no intention of sharing. That didn't bother her overly much, considering what she, too, was hiding from him, but his question made her tilt her head to the side thoughtfully as she answered with a question of her own, "Are you asking about the fighting, or about what happened afterwards? That five year gap, when I vanished?"

"Both, but the fighting can come first, since that's the order things went in. May as well proceed chronologically, if we're going to do this properly." Claude responded without looking over his shoulder at her, and he ran a thoughtful, curious finger down the spines of the books on the shelf before shaking his head and moving onto the next. Not much had been moved about or stripped from the library during the invasion of the Imperial troops, at least, nothing that hadn't been fixed during the rebellion's occupation in the monastery, but that only made his search all the harder. He couldn't trust his memory of the place, as it had been five long years since he had last stepped a foot inside of Garreg Mach, but he didn't allow it to hinder his search as he continued on almost errantly, "So, tell me, Teach. What do you remember about the fighting? Every detail you have, starting from when the first wave broke and the attack began in earnest."

Raine's eyes flickered to Dimitri and Warin, noting their displeasure with both the topic and Claude's cavalier attitude as he pressed it, but she knew better to let either of them interrupt and force Claude's attention back to where they believed it belonged. It wasn't a topic they wanted to discuss, especially considering what that fight had cost them both personally, but Raine was well aware that there was no time to allow emotions to cloud their judgement. Claude was flighty, and she didn't trust him as far as she could throw him. She needed to play his games in order to have his cooperation, as well as his full attention, and if this was what he wished to hear... She shrugged her shoulders idly, remarking, "I imagine that you remember it as well as I do. The first wave broke, but our defensive line held out the first few rounds of fighting. Edelgard's little vanguard were only a distraction, and she used herself and her men as bait to lure us as far outside of the monastery's defences as she could manage... A sound strategy, considering the sheer bulk of numbers she had waiting to summon the second things went wrong for her. We were successful in beating off her generals, successful in beating her off, too, but that didn't matter. Once she gave the call for the Empire's men, the battle was lost."

"That's odd. Because I don't recall it going quite like that..." Claude remarked as he paused in his hunt, finding what he was looking for shoved unceremoniously into a shelf three lengths away from where he had originally found it. He pulled the book loose, then the two that stood beside it before he smirked to himself at the hiding place it revealed. He reached into the shelf itself, rummaging about for a moment or to before he pulled a fourth volume free, and he turned about now, thumbing idly though the thin and worn prize he hadn't expected to find still hidden away where he had put it five years beforehand. He opened the book to the page he was searching for, and with a triumphant little smirk, threw the book onto the table between the trio seated about it before he exclaimed smugly, "What I remember is _that_ making an appearance out of utterly nowhere and stemming the tides long enough for the students to escape."

"A dragon?" Warin was the one to speak as all eyes turned to the open pages in curiosity, and he narrowed his eyes before turning to look at Raine and Dimitri in confusion. He had been chased far and away from the monastery shortly after the reinforcements had been summoned, shortly after feeling that heart-wrenching grip of ice in his chest that had told him Raine had fallen in battle, and there was nothing left for him to try to protect but his own neck. Raine was staring down at the picture with an inscrutable expression, her mouth pressed into a thin, stern line, while Dimitri winced, pressing a hand to his head as if he could hear Claude's words, but simply could not dredge up the image he was painting like he had blocked it out and could no longer remember without risking another of his splitting headaches.

Shifting his arm gingerly and cursing the damned sling that Flayn had forced him into due to the slow healing she had chosen to restore the broken bones in his arm, Warin wondered what in the seven hells Claude was trying to say. The volume he had presented was old and tattered, as if it had survived several centuries being shoved away under floorboards and into cracks as if it feared discovery. This made little sense to him, though some part of him did dimly remember that every few years, Seteth was said to regularly purge the library of books he deemed either "too sensitive", or "too inaccurate" for the monastery. It seemed at the least this was one book that had survived numerous such purges, though he admittedly couldn't imagine why. Across the pages was a picture of an ivory or silver-white-coloured dragon, its great wings spread wide and jaws open in a silent, unending roar, but he admitted it looked like nothing more to him than a picture from any of the countless fable books he had read through as a boy. The writing about the picture was smudged and faded with age, making it impossible to discern, and Claude's smug expression only made him all the more confused as he continued with a frown, "You remember a dragon in the fighting? Is this a detail I've never heard of before because no one else remembers it, or was it deemed too nonsensical to be believed as a fact?"

"No, it's a fact. There was indeed a dragon on the battlefield that day, but you weren't there to see it. It makes sense that you wouldn't have heard the retelling. Many of the students by that time were already evacuated, and they didn't see it, either. Those who did either died in the fighting, or never returned to Garreg Mach to tell of it..." Raine replied with a slow, tired shake of her head as she understood Claude's aim now, and she leaned back into a chair as she shook her head slowly and looked to Claude with tired, but narrowed eyes. She turned the book about, facing him and his smug, proud expression, and she tapped her index finger errantly onto the book's image of a large, silver-white dragon that encompassed the pages before asking him sternly, "Is _this_ really the first topic you want to delve into?"

"You tell me, Teach." Claude shrugged his shoulders, but his eyes were alight with both curiosity and deep suspicion now that he heard her confirm what he had seen to be complete fact. It wasn't as if he had had much time then to study the beast that had flown from the monastery and taken to the field like some legendary creature of old stories and wilder legends, but he had burnt that image of it into his eyes to remind himself that it had existed. This book had given him proof of it being something the Church of Seiros had been hiding, and its appearance that fateful day during the taking of the monastery... He couldn't, and wouldn't, discard it as simple coincidence as he challenged her outright, "If you remember it, why haven't _you_ said anything about it all this time?"

"I didn't remember it until very recently. You ask what I remember of the battle, and to be completely blunt with you, I didn't remember very much of the end of it for quite some time after I woke, five years after it had happened." Raine's response was cold and sharp, not appreciating Claude's jab as if she had been intentionally withholding information from both Dimitri and her brother. That had never once been her desire, or her choice, and it had only been _after_ the mess that had been the Battle of Grondor that things had returned to her memory that she had been happier off having forgotten. "Until recently, my memory of the battle ended shortly after the call for reinforcements came. Edelgard was near beaten, and then there were swarms of men making their way up the hills and villages, flanked by Demonic Beasts and slaughtering everything and everyone that got in their way... Then, I was being shaken awake on the river's edge at the foot of the monastery, five years after the fact. Only after Grondor did I remember more, and to be quite frank, I didn't trust what I'd remembered enough to speak of it, nor did I want to linger on those memories. Had you been in my place, I doubt you would have wanted to, either."

"And what memories are those?"

"Careful, Claude..." Dimitri spoke in a low, warning growl as he began to raise to his feet, but Raine lifted a hand to stop him before he could make it fully upright. She had spoken of this to him already, and though he believed her fully of what she had told him, it wasn't a topic she had enjoyed revealing to him. How could it be, when it was so damned frightening and morbid? Of course her own mind had erased it, likely in some desperate, futile attempt to keep her sanity, and only another near brush with death had been the trigger for recalling it. It had shaken her, shaken her and cemented all those damned beliefs she had about her humanity and her right to exist, but those were not secrets that Claude was privy to, simply because of his desire to know everything he could. His pushing, and his implications set fire to his temper, and though Raine had warned him silently not to intercede, he ignored her wholly as he reprimanded Claude sharply, "You're approaching dangerous territory. You being here doesn't mean that you've free reign to trample over everyone else on your quest for information. If she doesn't wish to divulge it, you've no right to go chasing after her for things she'd rather not speak of."

"Why do her feelings matter more than the fact that she remembers seeing this creature, and she knows more about it than she's letting on? If she knows its origins, then she owes it to us to explain it. There are more secrets being held here than the ones about this shadowy group that Edelgard's allied herself with." Claude retorted with a deep, amused snort as he looked from the book on the table and then back to Dimitri without an ounce of fear. He didn't care for something as pithy as the professor's emotional state, especially when the truth was on the line. He had been promised answers and secrets... He would not leave empty-handed, no matter which buttons he had to press, or how fiercely. "You may be allies with the Church of Seiros right now, but do you really think they aren't hiding things from you, too? Don't you want to know exactly what it is they're hiding, and why?"

"Boy, you've _no idea_ how badly we want to know the secrets that are being kept from us. If you'd listened to me when I came looking for you for aid, you'd have known that by now." Warin spoke this time at the mention of the Church of Seiros, and he turned threateningly in Claude's direction despite the fact that he was essentially crippled still from his wounds in Derdriu. His right arm still had an assortment of broken bones that hadn't yet been fully healed, and his left was still suffering from the after-effects of the magical burns that had been inflicted on him. His weapons had been much easier to restore than his body, but he had been promised within the next week or so he would be fit enough to begin training again if he adhered to the strict schedule Flayn had created for him. He had spent more time in the infirmary this last week than he had in his entire year of tenure as a Knight of Seiros, and to say it was grating on his temper was an understatement.

Even further, now Claude was daring to suggest that all three of them there were too blind to see the writing clearly painted on the wall, and he wasn't sure if he was more offended or infuriated by the young man's utter idiocy. They had been fighting amongst their enemies ever since they had been unceremoniously dragged here alongside their father, and if he hadn't made it obvious enough in his very manner when he had been a conscripted knight, he had no idea where Claude found himself to be making such claims, and with such boldness. It made him sharp and heated, and though he didn't have use of his arms he still could kick with all the force of a stallion if he wished to as he rounded on the younger sniper and snapped at him, "I don't trust the Church of Seiros as an institution any more than you do. No one sitting here does. Don't prance your arse in here as if you're the only sane one seeing the wolves amongst the sheep. We're all aware of what's happening, and that our allies of today could very well turn into our enemies tomorrow. Do you not think we've been preparing for that ever since we were dragged here against our will almost six years ago?"

"Seteth has already proven his loyalty to Rhea is paramount. I don't doubt for a moment where his priorities lie, and he's made it clear that it isn't to us or our rebellion. He wishes for Rhea to be freed from Enbarr. Anything else that happens during or afterwards is just good fortune to him." Raine took up where her brother left off, and her eyes flashed warningly on Claude as she reached instinctively for the blade on her hip in answer to his challenge. How dare he suggest they hadn't been thinking of these things on their own before his arrival? Did he truly think himself so superior for mistrusting the Church of Seiros? It was almost like dealing with Edelgard all over again, and that made her just as angry as Warin was when she reminded him icily, "And you forget exactly what brought us here in the first place, and that it most certainly wasn't by our choice. Our father is dead because Rhea dragged him back into the Church's net. You want to know things because they are forbidden to you, and you don't care about boundaries or laws or tradition, because you're drunk on the idea of knowledge you should not be permitted to have. We aren't like you. We want to know because it's our damned _right_ to know why our parents are dead, and why we're being made puppets of a religion we don't follow. Don't compare our reasons and think yourself somehow more righteous or clear-eyed than we are. You're blinder than Edelgard if you think it's that simple."

"Fine, fine..." Claude raised his hands in supplication as he realized he was coming dangerously close to facing a beating, but he didn't mind the insults. They were true enough, that he wanted the forbidden knowledge because it was forbidden to him, but he refused to believe that it made him any lesser than they for it. They wanted vengeance, it was plain as day that their hatred for Rhea was burning bright despite their positions and their allies, and that wasn't a path that would lead them anywhere clean. He knew it as well as they did, but he was glad to see their fires hadn't been put out by their positions of forced cooperation or leadership. That was the only positive he saw out of all of this, yet it still left him with questions he needed answering, and he turned back to Raine as he pointed that out bluntly, "But you still haven't answered my question, Teach."

"I died, so I apologize if that is somehow of inconvenience to you."

The words echoed in the room like a peal of thunder, and Warin's teeth gritted down audibly as Dimitri turned his head roughly to the side with a lowly muttered oath. Claude's eyes narrowed, and for a moment he debated calling her bluff before locking eyes with the woman in question to see that there wasn't a hint of dishonesty in her eyes. She was glaring at him, anger alight in every facet of her seafoam-coloured irises, but there was no lie there. She was speaking the complete truth, and it made him shake his head, disbelief saturating both his expression and tone as he replied, "Sorry, Teach, but you... died? You're standing here as living and breathing as I am, aren't you? You might have the power of the Goddess, or her blessing, or whatever it is they say it is that saved you in the Sealed Forest, but... You're starting to sound as if you're buying into their stories now."

"You asked what I remember of the siege. And what I remember more than anything else now is dying in the bottom of the canyon after being knocked from the cliff by Thales. If you think me a liar, go ahead and say the words, but be well aware they'll likely be your last. If I don't kill you, Dimitri or my brother most likely will in my stead." Raine answered him bitterly, and her body shuddered instinctively at the memory that haunted her dreams now that it had come back to her after taking that damned girl's dagger in Grondor. Once was enough, but the second brush had unlocked all of the memories she had either willed away or simply locked in darkness to keep her sanity. She couldn't count how many times now she had woken up in a cold sweat, panting and clutching at her still heart inside of her chest in a desperate attempt to remember she was somehow still _alive,_ even if she was not human.

Laying in the encroaching darkness, her body broken, her breathing marred by the taste of copper on her tongue... They were memories that would haunt her for the rest of her life, whether she was asleep, or awake. Then that emptiness that had followed, the dark and the nothing, before she was being yanked unceremoniously back into daylight, five long years after her eyes had closed for what to her had been only a heartbeat. Her memories had gone with the darkness, erasing everything else in a last-ditch attempt to keep her sane, keep her capable, but her wound in Grondor had brought it all back. Rhea, in comparison to the memory of death, had been little more than a footnote. It was wrong, it was selfish of her, but it remained fact. She hadn't given much of a damn about her memories of the battle, not when every other ounce of her was far too focussed, far too horrified, with the realization that death had taken her, and she had nothing awaiting her afterwards once it came for her for the final time.

She fought to keep her voice, and the hand that was still tightly clenching the hilt of her blade steady. Curses upon curses. That's all that her gifts truly were, and she would never again allow for anyone else to say otherwise. She was inhuman, she was bound for purgatory, and her body was some strange macabre imitation of a real one without a heartbeat to keep her standing. Her connection with Sothis, with Rhea, was the root of it all, but it didn't make her hate herself any less when she spat out with a curl to her lip for Claude, "Whatever "blessing" was bestowed on me didn't come without a cost, nor did it come naturally. This sword wasn't meant for my hand. The Crest I bear didn't come to me by virtue of my bloodline, either. And I can lay each and every one of these oddities at Rhea's feet. I'm not keeping her secrets because I wish to. I kept them because I didn't even remember that I knew of them. And at the time I recalled everything, a certain few details took precedence over others. I apologize for the inconvenience my death caused you."

"Enough. That's enough." Dimitri stood sharply, the chair he had been uneasily perched on skittering backwards with a loud thumping noise as he turned on Claude with a spark of rage igniting in his cerulean eye. He spoke coldly, factually as he laid his hands flat on the table, but the gesture was anything but a sign of calm or reconciliation. His fingers were trembling, and his body had stiffened to the point where it looked as if he would pounce at any given moment without warning. He growled out his next words, forcing himself not to resort to his baser instincts that demanded he haul his former classmate from the room and throw him from the nearest window, and instead looked sharply to him as he hissed, "I will not warn you again to tread lightly, Claude... Continue with this, and I _will_ gut you where you stand, with no compunctions. You've pried enough, and gotten your answers. Dig deeper, and you will force my hand."

Claude almost turned on him in reply, about to demand if he really would start another war, right inside of Garreg Mach for little more than a woman's feelings, but the moment he locked eyes with the future king of Faerghus, he was abruptly aware that he would. He would start a war, fight a war, and _win_ the war for the professor, and he would not hesitate if he was pushed further. The only reason he hadn't done anything yet was because Raine was fencing well enough on her own, and Warin was physically incapable of subduing him. But Dimitri's patience had clearly run thin, and Claude was suddenly very aware that he had overplayed his hand in his eagerness.

He was a lone deer amidst a pride of lions, and he had harassed the matriarch enough to spur her mate into action. And though he had not seen it for himself, Claude was well aware that was what their relationship had become. Dimitri had always been protective of his professor, and anyone with eyes could see that he had been clearly besotted by her in their schooldays. While he had changed, and changed violently in the past five years, that schoolboy affection had not waned. Instead, like the rest of him, it had grown. Claude only had to see the way he looked at her to know they were involved, but he had never considered the fact that Dimitri was more than willing, more than eager, to put an end to anyone and everyone who so much as looked at her wrong. And for her credit, while she had reigned him in and tamed him from the wild beast he had been in his exile... Raine seemed as if she wouldn't be overly bothered if he ran rampant, even if she didn't seem to be asking for it, herself.

Still, after a long, tense, and uncomfortable silence... Raine let out a breath, and waved her hand from the chair she still had not risen from. She wasn't looking at Claude any longer, but rather at her brother and Dimitri, and she spoke quietly but firmly to them as the tension filled the air until it could have easily been carved with a knife, "That's enough out of everyone here. Believe me, I'm not as happy with this turn of conversation as either of you are, but resorting to violence won't get us anywhere. We can deal with any negative feelings we have on the battlefield before we stoop to infighting. Sit, breathe, and we'll continue this discussion as civilly as we can manage. There's still more Claude needs to know, and I don't know about you two, but I'll feel much better if we get this all out of the way now so we don't have to risk a repeat of this fiasco as it already is. Can we all at least agree to that much, if nothing else?"

One snort and a long, irritated sigh were her only answers, and Raine rolled her eyes with exasperation before she turned back to the book Claude had put down in front of her. She turned it about to look at it more closely, and her eyes narrowed as she took in the features that were much too close to her memory for comfort. This book hiding amongst the monastery's literature was clearly something that should have been removed considering the truth it revealed, and she could well understand why Claude had chosen to hide it from wherever he had unearthed it. Her fingers idly traced the shape of the wingspan that spread far along the aged parchment, and she mused quietly, mostly to herself, "It's not exact, but it's close enough... The form she took that day was... older, perhaps? I don't know what words to use to describe it, as I was only there for a few minutes, and the memory still is hazy at times... It wasn't nearly as beautiful as this illustration would suggest, at the very least. There was nothing _beautiful_ about it... but power... There was plenty of that. She destroyed an entire garrison of men with just a burst of flame, and it took half a dozen Demonic Beasts just to stymie her movement. If this is her "true form", then Edelgard is right to be fearful and wary of her... and our foes moved knowing full well what she was and what she was capable of, and still won out the day. That speaks to preparation beyond our ken. Whoever Thales truly is, his war with the Church of Seiros began long before our lifetime, and only now did he have the confidence in his power to be willing to act in the open."

"His grudge isn't only with the church. Solon made quite the point of calling us all vermin in Remire. This goes far beyond a squabble over religion." Warin pointed out with a shake of his head, and he glanced only once to the book before discarding it completely. He'd read enough legends and fairytales that the concept of a human turning into a dragon wasn't anything he could not rationalize and accept without much difficulty. There were whole sagas of legendary countries where such creatures were commonplace in their society, though their powers and lifespans always put them at odds with the humans of their worlds. Human beings turning into dragons wasn't anything he was about to fret over, especially when the very real threat of death by magic or human-made weapons was far closer to him in his daily life. Still... He looked to Raine, and he spoke slowly, thoughtfully, "Fell Star... They call you Fell Star, and they fear and hate you for your power. Not for the blade, that seemed more like a trifle to them than anything else, it's your abilities that they loathe. But how do they know what abilities you have, if you've never demonstrated it to them before they even began calling you that?"

"Good question... I'd wager that it's because they, like Rhea, know exactly who, and what I am. Why else would they have tried so desperately to kill me at every opportunity? Whoever they are, they've made enemies of the Church of Seiros before, so they likely know just as much as Rhea does." Raine mused in return, and she ran her fingers errantly over the hilt of her blade as she wondered what Sothis would think of all this speculation, had she been there to hear it. It made her chest ache with memory and longing, but that she held in tightly and didn't allow to show on her face. Her connection to Sothis was a secret she intended to keep for awhile longer, especially considering who was now in the room with her and what it all meant in the grand scheme of things that she still could not see. Yet, she smiled bitterly, shaking her head as she remarked with a tired sigh, "Small wonder it was so easy to turn the Empire to their bidding, after placing Edelgard on the throne... Fill her head with lies and fear-mongering over the Church of Seiros, about the Crest system, about Rhea's true identity, and they've their perfect puppet in place to start a war. Allow the vermin to sort themselves out in the ensuing bloodshed, and once we've been weakened sufficiently, sweep over the continent and purge whoever remains. Not exactly a bad plan, I will say that much... Considering it _almost_ worked."

"So, if I'm to sum all of this up correctly... This shadowy group of ours has been existing in a silent, and generations-long campaign not only against the Church of Seiros, but the entirety of Fódlan, to boot. They used the Empire as their launching point to start a continent-wide war, and have been using Edelgard this entire time in order to cover their existence? Is that about the gist of it?" Claude questioned rhetorically, and as he looked from face to face about the room, he could see the answers clearly on their expressions. Dimitri was looking away, his expression pinched and pained, while Warin closed his eyes and shrugged his shoulders, unamused and proving he didn't give much of a damn of the details when the reality of the situation remained the same with or without the background information that gave nuance to it. Raine was the only one who met his gaze, and her face was calm and collected, without an ounce of worry or thought that she could be wrong, and her confidence made him muse despite himself, "All right, now saying that everything you know, or what you believe you know, is actually the truth... What's the next step?"

"Take Fort Merceus, and ready ourselves for an invasion of Enbarr... Then, take Enbarr, and save it from being burnt to the ground in the process, before dealing with Edelgard and freeing Rhea. With that, we'll have access to the information we'll sorely need to continue this campaign and root out the real enemy hiding behind the curtains." Raine answered with an idle shrug of her shoulders, though some distant part of her was aware that her words, and her dismissive tone on speaking had to make her sound quite mad. As if it was simply as easy as saying it, and not marching, over and over again, into battle after battle after battle. The army they had amassed were men and women, flesh and blood, not machines who had no concerns over wounds or sickness or infection. Still, Raine was well aware that keeping things in simpler terms, in easy-to-view goals, made things much less terrifying to imagine. The less she played up the difficulty of the road ahead, the more she could see herself trekking across it, and she knew that was the same for the soldiers she was fighting alongside.

Claude blinked, surprised by the blasé tone and moreover by how firmly Raine seemed to believe in how easy the path ahead of her looked. If he hadn't been witness to half of her victories already, he would have called her foolish, but he knew better. The woman in front of him had been pulling miracle after miracle out of her cloak at every turn, and it didn't seem as if she had lost an ounce of steam yet. She was ready to keep forging on ahead, even if it meant leaving everyone else far behind, but he wasn't quite sure if that was arrogance, or actual confidence. It unnerved him all the same, however, considering what still lay ahead, and he warned her with a cautious shake of his hand, "You're talking as if you've already put the Emperor in the ground. You're underestimating her if you think she'll go down that easily, Teach."

"She's a foot in the grave as it is, and that isn't arrogance speaking, it's pure fact." Raine countered coldly, and though she knew her words were spears to Dimitri, she did not make any attempt whatsoever to lighten her tone, or hold back the acid in her voice. She understood his desires to see things through, and yet not spill more blood if he could manage such a feat, but she, and he, knew that life would not be so kind to them. The enemy they were facing was arrogant, arrogant, proud, and blind, and already more than half-beaten. Any tactician worth their salt would know it, and Raine continued flatly, "Think mathematics. What is the only thing keeping the forces of the Alliance and the Kingdom at bay at current? It's Fort Merceus, and Fort Merceus will not be able to withstand a combined attack of our full might once we unleash it. We will be taking the fortress, there's no doubt about it, and that leaves our path to Enbarr wide open. She's boxed into a corner, and if she had a lick of sense, she'd request a parley, and surrender rather than waste lives defending the capital, and fighting to the death. But we both know she won't think sensibly. She's incapable of it. So, instead, she'll fight. She will fight, and she will die. Do you really think I'm wrong?"

"All I'm saying is that she won't go down easily, Teach. She's outnumbered, and most certainly weaker, but she's not about to give up... You're looking at another Battle of the Eagle and Lion." Claude pointed out, and from the flicker in Raine's eyes, he was aware that she knew this just as well as he did. They had all seen how Edelgard reacted when defeat was imminent, and it had never been a pretty sight. She lashed out wildly and without reserve, ready to bring down everything and anyone with her if that was how things were to be, but now they were fighting with lives on the line. It would be much different than their academy days. "You put any creature in a box, and they'll fight harder than they've ever fought in their lives for a chance at survival... She'll be at her most dangerous in Enbarr."

Warin's loud, derisive snort stopped Raine from replying, and all eyes turned to him with both surprise and confusion as he leaned back against the nearest bookshelf and looked at Claude with amusement. An honest smile was playing at his lips despite the cold humour glinting in his dark, navy gaze, and he shook his head with slow, exasperated mirth before he corrected Claude with another chuckle, "You're very wrong there, Claude... Just because _you_ prioritize survival over everything else doesn't mean that the world is full of like-minded cowards. Edelgard will be at her most dangerous, yes, but it won't be because she wants to _live_. It will be because she wants us all to _lose_. That's what this war is about. It's not about her surviving to rule over some half-arsed utopia based upon self-righteous dogma and ridiculous idealisms that would never work in the real world. It's about proving her demented delusions to be fact, and tearing down anyone and everyone who would disagree with her until they either fall in line, or get stomped out by her idea of how the world actually functions. She's not afraid to die. She's likely more prepared than anyone in this room is to enter her grave. Why she'll go down fighting is to prove, to the very last, that she's right, and that we are wrong."

"She's not that blinded by her ideals. She's smarter than that."

"No, she's truly not. You and her are rather alike in that. Thinking that your way is the right way, and no other could possibly be correct, or even have a shred of merit to it." Warin disagreed with another laugh, though this one was bitter and dark, and no longer showed even a hint of amusement to it. He had seen and heard enough to know now, what exactly had tied these two rulers together in a way that made Dimitri stand so far apart as an outlier, and he was disgusted with them and their selfish way of viewing things. They had no idea of the ramifications of their dreams, and worse, of the consequences of seeing those dreams to fruition. At the very least, Dimitri was only meeting violence with violence because it had been forced upon him. He wasn't seeking to change the world, or conquer it, in recompense. He merely wanted things to return to the way the were, and improve upon the things that had led to such a massive erosion of the world as he had known it once that power was in his hands.

"Change, change, change... You two both ramble on and on about how this world _must_ evolve, without ever considering what you wish for is impossible to accomplish in your lifetimes. You can't force growth. All you can do is burn down the world about you and hope that what you plant in the ashes comes out to your liking when it matures. You'd slaughter hundreds, knock down walls and disrupt the status quo in some twisted hope of making the world out to be a better place... and never once do you acknowledge that the walls were built for a reason, and the laws we live by are upheld by the majority because they, at least, are at peace with the world they live in." Warin pointed out coldly, echoing his sister's ferocious tirade unthinkingly in Derdriu as he locked eyes with Claude both threateningly, and with a fair amount of a challenge to be told he was speaking nonsense. He had heard enough from Edelgard personally to have realized how far gone she was, but it had genuinely disappointed him to learn that two out of three of the future heirs of the continent were so completely blind. "You disrupt that world, you knock down those walls, you kill wholesale in the name of some great dream, and all you have at the end of the road is a bloodstained landscape, countless dead, even more mourners, and angry and uncertain victims that you now must either put under your boot, or convince that all they lost was for their own good, even if they never asked for it. You want change that will actually be welcomed, and will become a new mainstay in the world? Then you must accept two things; the first is that you cannot force it upon another, and the second is that you will never live to see it come to fruition."

"The old don't plant trees so that they themselves will pick the fruit. That fruit is for their children, and their children's children. You're demanding the tree grow outside of the laws of nature, and are watering the soil with blood in some deluded attempt to hasten its natural cycle. That isn't how the world works." Raine agreed with a slow, solemn shake of her head, and she was pleased, darkly so, by the look of complete shock in Claude's eyes as he listened to their words. He had no choice but to listen, to absorb it, because he was there at their mercy, and the world he wished for was nothing but ashes in the wind of his dreams. They all knew it, but Raine cared little for how much it had to hurt him to be so thoroughly drowned in his failure. He would have gone the same way as Edelgard had, if he had had the tools to do so. She knew it, because she had seen those hungry eyes on her blade, and the simmering anger and resentment in his expression when he had seen it in her hands. "All the power in the world won't change the fact that you alone are incapable of making it spin faster simply because you command it. I'll be the first to agree that this world needs to be changed, though perhaps not as violently as you two believe... but if that change is to come at all, it must come organically, and not through force. Otherwise, all you seek to accomplish will be undone within a generation or two, because you could not swing the majority to see things through with you in peaceful agreement. The unity of Fódlan will never happen in our lifetime. Nor should it."

"Edelgard came pretty damn close before you came along, Teach."

"It never would have lasted. She killed too many people, made too many enemies, and moreover, her ideal little world doesn't account for the fact that she's a puppet, and those holding her strings would never have allowed for her to actually win." Warin continued firmly, and he chuckled at the very thought that she would have had the power or the ability to take on the foes she was leaning on so heavily in order to make her victory possible in the first place. It made no sense that it would work in her favour, when she had been built, from the ground-up, to serve for their purposes. "She, and you, are underestimating the foes we're facing if you truly think she has a whit of hope in somehow putting these bastards in their coffins before they'd put a knife in her ribs. Do you not think they've planned for every eventuality, including her betrayal? Wouldn't they have considered it from the very day they made her into what she is? Even if we hadn't come to stop it, even if we fail, there is no outcome where she not only wins, but survives. We may not know their reasons for why they do what they do, but we do know what they want. A world without us. A world where _they_ rule. A puppet doesn't get to live in such a world after they've expended their use, especially one who isn't capable of keeping herself in check. Had she played a more conservative hand, hell, if she had opened her damned mouth, all of this could have been avoided from the very start. But that's her sin to bear. We're just the ones here cleaning up her mess."

Raine sighed, stretching out her tense muscles as she felt the weight of the conversation filling the entirety of the library. Dimitri hadn't spoken a word, but she understood well why he wouldn't. He still was hoping to wring out some semblance of a conscience, of sheer common sense from his step-sister, even if he knew it was futile. She and Warin were already looking beyond her corpse, and the vast dichotomy between their views and actions were hard to swallow, and chilling. Yet, they had come to terms with it. Pragmatism was the way of their world now, as leaders and mercenaries, and reality was cruel. It was all well and good to hope, but Raine would not put faith in anything that hadn't already proven to be reliable.

She looked now to Claude, who looked as if he had been taken about the stables for a harsh beating despite the fact that no one had laid a hand upon him. He didn't like what they had to say, and from that stubborn shine in his eyes, he proved that he would deny them being right to his very last breath. That was his choice, but it only made her immediately decide she would not trust him with an ounce more information that was necessary if that was to be the case. He, too, could not be relied upon. He could be used, just as he would use them, but she was fine with that. Their relationship didn't require trust, or even mutual respect, and she showed her hand fully as she leaned in her chair and remarked, "So, with all this out of the way... What's your stance now, Claude? Do you know enough to be satisfied, or are you in it for the long haul? And if so, what do you want out of it?"

"I want what I've always wanted. The truth. The full, honest, naked, truth. I want to know who, or _what,_ Rhea really is, what she and the Church have been hiding, and moreover, I want to know why Fódlan's future was put squarely into _your_ hands." Claude's reply came quick and blunt, though his eyes were cold as he studied the woman in front of him. He didn't understand why she of all people, someone of no standing, no noble birth, nothing but a fair hand at swordplay, had become the one to be entrusted with the future of the continent. He already knew it was Rhea's will, but that wasn't enough for him. He wouldn't be satisfied until he knew everything. "Once I find out all of that... I'll do what I intended to do in Derdriu, and put this mess of a continent behind me. My dreams are in ruins here. I'll find a way to make them happen elsewhere."

"Fair enough... but be warned, whatever information Rhea has about me isn't going to be shared with you just because you demand it. That's my decision to make, not yours. If I choose to keep my secrets, then you'll have to live with that. And if you can't... Well, you aren't so useful that I'll make an exception for you being here if you start getting too annoying." Raine admitted with an errant flick of her hand, but her eyes flashed with a dare to be challenged nonetheless. She was aware he would not stop until he was satisfied. That had been a gamble she had played... However, she was laying out the rules now, not later, so he would be fully aware of the consequences of sticking his nose where it wasn't wanted. "This is a relationship built on trade, not trust, and whatever information Rhea has concerning my family doesn't need to be whispered in _your_ ears. Unless you feel like telling us exactly all those little secrets you've been sitting on since we first met in Remire all those years ago. Commerce for commerce, Claude. Secret for secret."

"Why do you want to know anything about me? I'll be nothing but a bad dream in a few moons. There's no point in you digging up all of my dirty laundry now." Claude pointed out shrewdly, though he was aware that his words were hypocritical. Raine had put him directly in front of a target, with his own mouth as the awaiting arrow, and she knew it just as well as he did. It only served as a painful reminder that all of his tactics and schemes and lies were nothing in comparison to her lifetime of experience, and her willingness to play just as dirty as her opponent would if she had to. She was still a mercenary, underneath all of her titles and gifts and exploits, and in that cold, calculating glare of her eyes, he knew she had already buried _him_ , just as she had already buried Edelgard. "I'm just a soldier to you now, so there's no point in getting cosy and sharing secrets and family history. I'll agree to that much. But everything else, I still want to be privy to, and I won't back down on that."

"Fine. Then we've an agreement. You can take your turn questioning Rhea once we free her from Enbarr. For now, make yourself useful about the monastery as every other soldier would, and we can talk again at the next war council." Raine dismissed him summarily, and she was glad when he didn't argue, but merely nodded his head stiffly and made his way out of the library. His body language was tense and coiled, proof of deeply buried anger and annoyance, but she didn't view it, or him, as something to be concerned about. He'd been bested already, and he was outnumbered. He knew it as well as she did, which was why he had left without argument. Though the moment the door shut behind him, sealing her inside of the library with Dimitri and her brother... She let out a groan and a curse. "Gods, I hate that brat... And before you start gloating; yes, yes, you were right, Warin. I hope this was worth it."

Warin snorted, but he shook his head... In no remote world was this situation worth being right, and from Raine's exhausted and annoyed expression, he knew she felt the exact same way. Dealing with Claude was not something either of them had wanted to do, but it wasn't as if he had left them with any choice after his actions in Derdriu. Luring him into Garreg Mach with the promises of secrets so he would abandon his political games was the only avenue they had left to them if they wanted to use his strength. While they all clearly believed putting up with him wasn't worth the effort, they all still knew it was for the sake of the Alliance. They'd grit their teeth and make do, because they had no other choice, but it didn't mean they would enjoy it. "You make it sound like I _enjoy_ being right. Believe me... I don't. But that's beyond the point, and beyond our issue with the brat. What is our next move?"

"I don't know yet... Finalize our plans for the invasion at the fortress, I suppose." Raine replied with a small shrug, and she leaned herself as far back in her chair as she could manage, tilting her head back and squeezing the bridge of her nose to fight off the coming headache this conversation had left her with. She wouldn't be sleeping well tonight, she knew she wouldn't, but she shelved that for another matter as she continued with a sigh, "I hesitate to reach out to Judith or to that general, Nader, for counsel or advice. Not until the lords have settled things amongst themselves about their future leader. Which, in an of itself, is quite an annoyance... Having a batch of soldiers from Almyra could be quite a boon in taking the Imperial forces by surprise, but considering they've all proven to be loyal to Claude and Claude only, that's not a route I see being open to us. Claude thinks we should take the Old General by way of stealth. Also not an option."

"We'd expend far too many resources, and far too much time trying such a route. Brute force is our only option when it comes to Fort Merceus. It will be well-fortified, and well guarded, but if we wish to force Edelgard into a full retreat into Enbarr, we cannot afford to waste a moment trying a way inside by subterfuge." Dimitri agreed with a calm, quiet nod, and his one cerulean eye burned as he thought of the last standing barrier between their army and the Imperial capital. He had heard the stories, he had studied the history and the taller tales, and with Ferdinand's inner knowledge, he now felt sufficiently prepared and informed enough to believe in their current course of action as he continued, "We'll be served far better by knocking it flat to the ground by throwing our entire might against it... Regardless of _how_ we enter, the battle inside will be a bloodbath. The sheer number of soldiers that Fort Merceus can sustain will ensure that. There's no point in trying to outsmart an enemy that will skewer you by the dozens the moment that you show yourself."

"I'll agree to that... but unfortunately, I don't have much time left to keep discussing the finer details. Flayn will be after my hide if I don't return to the infirmary. We can pick this up again in the next war council. For the moment, I guess the only rules we can follow is keeping our tempers, and keeping Claude happy until we can put him on a boat and send him over the sea." Warin rolled his shoulders back before he looked down to his arm, and he sighed at the idea of once again abandoning his usual training regime for an hour locked away in the stale air of the infirmary. Still, as he glanced over to Raine and Dimitri and took in their tired and worn faces, he couldn't quite help himself as he suggested, "I'd also advise the two of you to take an early day. Delegate the rest of your work, and sneak off of the grounds and into town for a night or two. Unwind a little. You're no use to any of us the way you are now."

"Intriguing advice, coming from the man who can't sign a piece of paper..." Raine mused without opening an eye to look at her brother, but she didn't need to see his face to know he was smiling at her. Unfortunately, this was one of the rare times where she was in full agreement with him. She was exhausted... and she didn't want to think of the nightmares that would be keeping her awake all night, and chasing away any semblance of comfort or productivity for the next handful of days. Getting herself out, even if it meant hiding off of the bounds of Garreg Mach for a day or two to recuperate, and remind herself of the world outside her responsibilities, would be good for her. It would be good for all of them. "I'll do that. I'll find Rodrigue and hand over whatever remaining paperwork I have left on my desk... I need a break, and maybe a good pint to wash this conversation down with..."

"Don't go overboard. Flayn asks me about your health every time she sees me, and if she knows you're drinking again, she is going to report it to Mercedes." Warin warned her idly as he took for the door, not bothering to look to see the scathing glare he knew his sister had to be shooting him for daring to bring up her enforced sobriety despite the fact that they both knew she was completely cleared by her healers to fully resume a normal day-to-day life for a mercenary and a commander. He chuckled to himself as he slid out of the library, leaving both Raine and Dimitri alone as he began his trek back to the infirmary for his second check-in for the day.

Twice a day he was expected to appear in the infirmary for both an examination and a treatment, and for the past week, he had been obeying the schedule without a word of complaint. Marianne had done the best that she could for his burnt arm, and even Flayn had deemed it more than acceptable and had thanked her profusely for the work, but the shattered bones in his other had posed a more difficult problem. Flayn's solution had been slow, steady magic transfusions to ensure a proper healing, as well as making sure to preserve the strength in his arm. He hadn't argued, as he knew his limited knowledge left her to be the expert he had to obey, though he did admit it was a painful process to put his training on hold, as otherwise he was left feeling relatively useless.

Still, as he turned the corner of the hall, he had to remind himself that it could have been much worse. He still had function of both of his arms, and was not in danger of being crippled despite his injuries. While Shamir had been less than pleased with him, she had eased off of the anger when she had seen he had done enough of a job beating himself up for both his failure and his physical state. She took no pity on him, expecting him to act as he could and within his limits, and he was glad for it. So long as she was acting as everything was normal, it made it easier for him to do the same. He only hoped that since he was banned from training, that she wouldn't pick up on the extra books he was taking from the library to supplement his plethora of free time in their quarters.

"That reminds me, I need to take out that third volume of Dagdan, if it's still there... Should have taken it while I was in the library..." Warin muttered to himself as he slid through the wide-open doors of the infirmary to see it clear except for the one waiting healer he had expected to already be there, always ahead of schedule in a desperate attempt to appear more professional than she looked. That, in and of itself, had never bothered him. Young as she looked and acted, there was little doubt she was also an authority in healing amongst her peers. It was only circumstance that had left her sidelined in recent moons, as healers needed healers when they exhausted themselves, and Flayn knew better than most how to work with the exhausted and frail of overwork and overstressed.

Now, however, as he sidled into the infirmary, he noticed immediately that she was not as she usually looked. Her posture was tense, her hands continuously clenching and unclenching about the ruffles of her skirt, and her eyes were skittering nervously about the room in an attempt to look at anything but her approaching patient. It was a reaction he was used to from strangers, he simply did not know how to make himself look approachable when he was wounded and in pain, but usually she was much more composed. He didn't acknowledge it as he sat himself down in the chair nearest her, instead choosing to greet her idly, "Flayn."

"Sir Warin. Your arm, if you please." Flayn's voice was steady as she made her usual demand, and Warin obeyed her without complaint or delay. He was careful in slipping his arm free of the sling, extending it for her inspection, and she took a soft, gentle hold of his forearm with as much strength as the whisper of a butterfly's wings. Her fingers were careful as they squeezed and rubbed along the lines of the breaks, testing the returning density of his bones and the repairs of his muscle and tissue... but Warin noticed the way her eyes continued to flicker, and that even if her hands were still and steady, her body was almost thrumming with nervous energy, akin to rabbits he had hunted in his youth at the moment before their throats were slit.

Her professionalism was impeccable, even in the throes of anxiety. Her hands never once applied too much pressure or even so much as trembled as she continued with her careful probing. He doubted that many of the other healers in the monastery would have had the same control, and he wondered at it. So many things at odds in her manner and speech and behaviour, and yet this made him worry if perhaps she was the one pushing herself too far this time. Twice a day, every day, for almost a week and a half couldn't be good for her, even if she had been the one to insist upon it... but he wasn't a healer. He knew next to nothing about magic, and it made him choose his words carefully when he finally spoke up after a few tense, silent minutes, "You don't look quite well. Should we perhaps wait a moment or two before beginning?"

"You should know better than to remark upon a lady's appearance, Sir Warin." Flayn's response was quick and curt, showing a flare of her usual spirit, but her eyes were still skittering, and her body was still tense. She refused to look up at him in any sort of fashion, and her hands had quit their probing as she simply held onto his arm in thoughtless stillness instead. He could see past the curls of her braids to notice her complexion was paler than normal, and there was the slightest hint of pink ringing about the corners of her eyes. She was upset, regardless of her attitude or words, and Warin understood immediately what it was that had happened.

After all, he had been wounded, but he wasn't blind. It was in his nature to watch, to be aware, and to learn the patterns of those about him until it became second nature of him to know. He had seen the changes in her patterns. Her appearance in places where she had no right to be, where she usually avoided, and now her upset after weeks of skulking about in the shadows in a genuine but poor attempt to put her nose where it obviously did not belong, and hear things her ears were never meant to hear. Flayn was a superb healer, a great student, and a staunch supporter of her professor and the rebellion... but she was also Seteth's hidden daughter, a pious young woman of the church, and close enough to call Rhea family.

What she had overheard in those meetings she was usually kept so far away from had begun to sink their claws into her veneer of friendly kindness, and professional calm. It made sense. After all, as much as she butted heads with her father, she still remained his daughter, and she loved him fiercely. Warin carefully pulled his arm free of her grasp, and when she finally raised her eyes to his face in response, he held her gaze with calm. If that was the way she wished to behave now, it was better to address it at once, rather than give it more time to fester. So he leaned forwards, elbows perched on his knees and eyes piercing and cool as he responded evenly, "And I would say a lady should know better than to be sneaking and skulking about to eavesdrop on conversations they clearly are not a party to. Is there something you wish to confess to me, Flayn?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> I think this might be the first time in a long time that I've ended a chapter on an actual cliffhanger, but... Well, I can say I enjoyed doing it. I've received questions of Flayn, and during this gigantic "rewriting" phase of Azure Moon, there have been several glaring plotholes that have been shoved into my hands and I am working desperately to fix them without seemingly pulling too much out of my own arse... Flayn and her involvement (or lack of involvement) with Raine in Grondor is something I did intend to address, but, of course, it couldn't only be spoken of in a vacuum, and I've been waiting for my chance to get to write about it in between all of the rest of things I'm working on. I've been sick (I am already self-isolating due to my lifestyle, so no worries about contracting anything!), so writing has fluctuated here and there, but I am still committed to finishing this fic, even if it's proving to be a problem child. X'D
> 
> I'm once again breaking my sleep schedule, but I blame the quarantine for that. I've been so completely bored and stir-crazy that I'm either sleeping too long, or not sleeping at all. I can't wait until things get back to normal, and I'm doing what little I can to help in the interim. It just really sucks, having a committed LDR that I simply can't see because of border closures and things that are unfortunately just right out of my control. I miss my fiance, and it's eating me up inside knowing I'm going to miss our anniversary because of a damn virus. Still, our health is paramount, and I won't be selfish or stupid... and I can't make my way over there anyway, so there's nothing to do but figure out how to make things work, y'know?
> 
> Quarantine sucks for everyone, of course, and I know there are people in much worse positions than I, so I shouldn't be complaining. So, I'll do what I can, and write to help provide a little entertainment to the boredom. With that in mind, thank you very much for reading this far, and I hope to see you again in my next chapter. Stay safe and healthy, and have a good one until we see each other again!
> 
> Mood: Insomniac.
> 
> Listening To: "Let it Out" Fukuhara Miho (Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood ED)
> 
> ~ Sky


	21. The Healer and the Mercenary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: Friendship, Mystery, Trust, Conspiracy, Romance. (T)
> 
> Characters: Warin, Flayn, Seteth, Shamir.
> 
> Summary: Over and over she had heard the same words, that her father could be not be trusted, and that Rhea was their enemy due to her secrecy, and her involvement in the lives of her professor, and her professor's dear brother. She had mourned for them when they had lost their father, she had returned when the day of the promise had come, and yet the times of hiding her unease about them could go on no longer. Warin had rooted her out so easily, a wolf in comparison to his sister's lioness, and she felt like a rabbit caught in those sharp, calculating navy eyes. What was it she could say, now that he had pulled the rug so cleanly out from under her feet? Only the truth, she supposed. Only the truth.

**Blue Sea Moon**

**Garreg Mach (Infirmary)**

**Noontime**

Flayn felt as if she had just been struck in the chest, and she feared even to breathe as Warin's calm, placid navy stare kept her pinned to her seat despite all of her sudden desire to stand and flee. Her mind spun with both fright and shame, and she wondered how painfully obvious her behaviour had to be for him to be calling her out on it so boldly and assuredly. Though he was not a man easy to get close to, Flayn knew well enough that Warin was honest to a fault, and every inch the mercenary he looked. He didn't suffer fools or liars, and while he did indeed have a softer, kinder side when it came to his family, to Shamir, or children... He still did not dole out mercy often. Here, seated across from him in the infirmary and realizing he knew everything she had been up to in the past several weeks, Flayn's blood ran cold, and her lips felt numb as she began to croak out, "Th-That's-"

"You can deny it, if you like, but we both know that would be a lie. Also poor behaviour for a lady, as I imagine you well know. Don't bother making an attempt, and making a fool of yourself, Flayn. Simply be honest. It will be much easier that way for the both of us." Warin cautioned her patiently, and he watched the way her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe, and the way her pupils dilated in a show of fear. It almost made him wince, knowing he could scare her so easily, but he also knew approaching her in any other manner but forward would be doing her a disservice. She was owed a straight shot, and not a long, bumbling beating about the bush. So he spoke factually, calmly, not allowing an ounce of emotion to show in his face or voice when he explained, "I'm aware you've been listening in on our meetings, at every opportunity you can muster. I'm aware you must have overheard much, and that what you did hear likely weighed quite heavily on you. And, if I'm to guess even further, you were listening in on the conversation we just had in the library, and that is why you're so upset. Something we said in there displeased you, yes?"

Flayn gaped at him, both with wonder, and with no small trace of fright and confusion. If he had known for so long, why had he allowed it to continue? Why hadn't he stopped her the moment he had realized? She had been listening in at every opportunity, and had overheard much that wasn't meant for her ears, and yet he had continued to speak freely, knowing full well she would either be there to listen, or would be making attempts? It made no sense, especially for a man like him. He was private incarnate, never sharing anything of himself, and yet he had opened up not only himself, but his sister, Dimitri, and all of their generals to her snooping? It simply made no sense, and left her at a complete loss as she questioned him shakily, "H-How long have you...?"

"Since that night Raine took her generals to task last moon, I believe. It aligns up with your sudden appearances, everywhere we went, and you began acting rather skittishly around then, as well." Warin replied honestly, and he watched the guilt warring with the fear of being caught rising in her eyes, and he leaned back in his seat to make himself more comfortable. Her reactions were of great interest to him, answering all the questions he had been biting back, and it allowed him to be open and blunt with her in return as he continued to explain for her, "You lost quite a bit of your spark, though you tried to hide it well enough. Checking up on Raine with Raphael, under the guise of following him about for something to do... Shadowing your father until even he got irritated with the fact that you were almost constantly underfoot... You put up a good front, but you aren't quite cut out for spy work. You usually avoid the training grounds, as well as the knight's barracks, considering what happened to you with the Death Knight. You were hoping to overhear more conversations between Raine, Dimitri and I, yes?"

Flayn bit her lower lip as her hands curled into fists about the frail lace of her skirt. So thoroughly caught and laid out in the light, without any trace of effort on his part... She wondered if she should feel more shame for her lack of ability to hide herself, or for the fact that he didn't seem all that disappointed by her. As if he had come to accept her actions as regular, instead of something to grow intensely infuriated by. She was, after all, her father's daughter, and a pious, and strong, member of the Church of Seiros. She was everything he hated, everything he suspected, and he had proven it all without even lifting a finger to uncover her. Her eyes lowered to her hands, watching her knuckles whitening and the trembling in her fingers as she answered him quietly, tiredly, "Yes. I was hoping to hear your meetings, and your opinions... I listened in at every possible opportunity, and I overheard much I imagine you wanted no one to hear."

"I imagine hearing us disparage you father was a blow for you. My apologies for that. I can understand it couldn't have been easy, hearing your comrades, your professor, speaking so lowly of a man you love out in the open." Warin accepted her confession readily enough, glad that she was not trying to hide or lie, as she had already proven she was utterly terrible at both. It would be easier, much easier, this way, even if she looked ready to bolt from her chair at any given moment should she get the opportunity. Still, he wasn't entirely pleased to be having this conversation. It would only open up more wounds, and pour salt onto the already gaping ones.

"Are you concerned that I am being a spy for my father?"

The question, though he supposed was one fair enough to ask, still caught him off guard momentarily. Flayn was still not looking at him, preferring to stare down at her clenched fists, and Warin took pause as he wondered how best it was to answer her accusation. She was right to suspect that was his understanding of the situation, considering all she likely had heard and surmised, and yet... Warin shook his head slowly, leaning back further in his chair before he answered honestly, firmly, "Not a whit."

"Why? I am my father's daughter. You have said, many a time, that my father's loyalty is stronger to Rhea than to the two of you... Would the same not be true for me, as his daughter?" Flayn challenged him abruptly, and her eyes flashed seafoam-coloured fire as she finally looked up a his casual dismissal. She disliked how easily he could speak of these things, how easily he came to judgement, but she knew that was not a personal affront. He simply was as he was, after many, many years of fighting and commanding at his father's side. Making judgements, no matter how quickly or brutally, was the way of a mercenary, and it had kept him alive all the time he had been in exile. Yet now...? When he had every right to be suspicious and angry, he was relaxing his standards? "Do you not worry I have been reporting back everything I have heard to him?"

"You wouldn't be looking nearly as guilty, or making the argument against yourself, if that was the case." Warin responded calmly, meeting her gaze with a quiet, certain one of his own. It almost amused him, how fiercely she was trying to put herself into a box where she simply didn't fit, but he could understand why. She did not always see things as her father did, and sometimes felt smothered, but it didn't mean she loved him any less. They were family, and family was paramount... but sometimes, loyalties twisted and bent all the same, which made him continue on in that same placid voice, "And, to be frank, even if you were, it wouldn't be of any harm to us. What we've said, he knows. Most of our secrets are in the open at this juncture. The few that we have left are unfortunately the ones being kept from us, and not the other way around. We've nothing to hide from Seteth, so if you are reporting to him on what you hear, it would not be an act I'd find particularly troublesome."

"Why? Is that not a betrayal of your trust?" Flayn's eyes remained sharp and piercing, and she wondered how easily Warin could keep his expression neutral when he was prodded and poked. She had seen his temper in action, she had seen what it had cost him, and yet... When the one thing that had been done that earned his wrath more than anything, he looked completely at ease with the world, and with her. It was mystifying, and it was hurtful. She had expected anger or disappointment... Not understanding, or acceptance. That only made the guilt chew worse deep inside of her stomach and tightened her lips into a scowl. "Am I not like them, keeping secrets from you?"

"If you were doing it, perhaps. But you aren't... So comparing yourself to Rhea, or your father, is rather disingenuous." Warin answered with a slow shake of his head, and he carefully folded his arms as he watched Flayn wince at the name of the archbishop and promptly look away again. It wasn't surprising, but he felt no anger. They were all close, and he was well aware of it. Rhea's fright and worry when Flayn had been kidnapped had been genuine, as if she was searching for her own child, and Flayn's concern over Rhea was a direct mirror. The two were indeed family, but it did not mean that Rhea's secrets were Flayn's to hold, just as Raine's were not his, and he continued pointedly, "If you knew anything of what we sought, I have a feeling you'd have told us long ago because of the guilt you'd feel. You do have your secrets, but those secrets are for you to hold, not for us, and keeping them to yourself is a matter for you and you only. You love your father, and you love Rhea... but you also love Raine, do you not? You wouldn't hurt her if you could help it."

"I did not attend to Raine's wounds after the battle of Grondor. In fact, I argued against the techniques that Mercedes, Dorothea and Professor Manuela decided on using. Did that not make you suspicious of if I cared for the professor?" Flayn wondered where her words were coming from, but as they poured freely from her mouth, she began to understand it was guilt again. Guilt at feeling powerless, guilt at allowing her fear to overwhelm her better sense, and guilt at standing by and doing nothing but acting from the sidelines when she could have been helping the woman who had spent a year mentoring her when she had no reason to do so. She had felt so useless, so paralysed, and even now she felt so much shame for acting so immaturely.

"You act as if you saw her laying on the ground and turned heel and walked away. I don't remember it happening in quite that fashion." Warin pointed out with a raised eyebrow as he heard the depth of her guilt and self-loathing, and he wondered just how deeply she had been burying these feelings. It sounded as if it had started before Grondor, as if she had been carrying some sort of weight on her shoulders at the same time Raine had, though he knew that simply could be her empathetic nature speaking. She was a kind soul, fiery and determined, but gentle at heart... A perfect healer. Shifting in his seat again, Warin held her eyes before he remarked, "I know you were against the coma, but it wasn't as if you refused to have anything to do with her even when you were overruled. You tended to those tending to Raine, didn't you? And you checked in on her, too, whenever you had the time. You were against the method of her healing, but you didn't wish her harm, and you certainly didn't wish her dead. You did your work, albeit indirectly. And not a soul thinks you selfish, cowardly, or worse, a _traitor_ for that."

"But you think my father to not be on your side."

"Because he isn't, Flayn. And as much as it must pain you to hear that... It is how it is, and I know you know it. You wouldn't look so torn if you weren't aware we had our rights to be acting as we were." Warin kept his voice neutral and calm, not wishing to leap into an argument, but also not wanting to lie to spare her feelings. It was not his way, not even for her, and she would know that and be suitably offended if he even tried. He shook his head again, allowing himself a deep, tired sigh before he leaned forward this time, his voice softening as he continued sincerely, "Flayn, you are not your father, though you may be his flesh and blood. And you are close to Rhea. We know this. But we don't think ill of you, nor do we mistrust you for who your family is. If it was otherwise, I would have told Raine you were listening in on us, and relocated our conversations to a safer place. You know that I would have."

Flayn struggled for a reply, biting her lower lip and straining her jaw in a frown as she looked at him with both disappointment, hurt, and anger. He was such an enigma, and for the life of her, she couldn't piece him together quite properly. Every time she believed to have him pinned down, he easily slipped away with an act or a word she never expected from him, and she had to step back to reassess her thoughts on him all over again. But, what he was saying here and now was true enough. Had he thought her to be causing harm, he would have interceded on his own account long before this, and most certainly not so kindly. "Then why do you believe I was listening in on you?"

"To see if our feelings for your father, for Rhea, extended to you. You never heard your name mentioned, so you were unsure. But you heard plenty of your father, and of Rhea, and that upset you, as it rightfully should have." Warin's answer came immediately, but his voice was solemn and gentle all the same. There was no tone of condemnation or annoyance. Not even a hint of disappointment or anger. Just understanding and sympathy, which, unfortunately, did not make her feel any better despite his efforts. He could see it by the way she slouched away from him in her chair, her body folding in on itself uncomfortably, and he tried in vain to reassure her, "It's not wrong to wonder where you stand, Flayn. And it's frightening to have that conversation, I imagine... All you've heard are poor, angry things about your family. It's understandable you were hesitant, and concerned, and so you listened in hopes of finding out. Unfortunately, you only heard things that hurt you, and things that didn't give you straight answers. You formed an opinion on that, and it's begun to shake you. Am I right?"

Again, Flayn didn't wish to give him an answer, and she shifted her weight in her stool uncomfortably. His eyes were so piercing, and his words were even moreso. She disliked that about him. He wouldn't know the word subtle if it leapt out of the pond to bite him, but he didn't seem to really care. He spoke only what he thought to be the truth, and though he was bitter, though he was blunt, he was always honest. She respected him for that, but she also hated his ability to see through people as if they were nothing more than pieces of parchment. It was as if nothing personal was sacred when he spoke to people... Though she knew to go that far was hyperbolic. He was genuinely kind... It just took certain people, and certain circumstances, for him to show it. It made her wonder why she, apparently, was included in this list, and she asked raggedly, "Do you hate me, Sir Warin? As a servant of the church? Of the Goddess? Of Rhea, and my father?"

It was Warin's turn to pause at the words, at the accusations that felt more like she was trying to give him reasons to be cruel, and he could only watch her closely in response for a moment. She wanted his anger, for reasons he could not quite fathom, and it saddened him to know it. He knew he was frightening and had a reputation of being stern and even cruel, but he didn't want her to wish that for herself from him. That was a lance to the chest, and he shook his head again, clarifying for her as firmly, but gently, as he could manage, "You're no servant. You're your own woman, with your own opinions and will. Even your father has seen that in the past few moons. You do not take orders lightly, or willingly. You demand equal treatment, despite your age, and you are owed it because of your talents and knowledge. True, you are devout, but I don't find that to be a bad thing."

"You hate the Church. And do not say you do not, Sir Warin." Flayn pointed out with narrowed eyes, and she cut him off quickly before he could try to argue her point. If he did, it would only be a lie, and that was something they both knew. This time she was the one to cross her arms, and she looked at him sharply, piercingly, trying to see underneath that mask of calm composure that had yet to slip an inch off of his face ever since they had started to speak. How long had he been anticipating this, to not be moved at all? She didn't want to know. It would be too much to know, and so she continued on somewhat tightly, "It is not secret knowledge how you feel about the Church of Seiros, or about Rhea. You have made that _very_ clear in the past several years, and now, your stance is growing more and more fierce."

"I dislike the Church of Seiros as an _institution,_ Flayn, but I have no qualms about the _faith._ I have never had problems with those of any faith, colour, or creed. I've worked alongside apostates, faithful, and those who have no beliefs at all in my time as a mercenary, and I've treated all of them the same. What you believe in, who you believe in, if you believe at all, is not something that is any business of mine." Warin countered firmly, and he hated that once again he was being put in a position where he had to defend his dislike of the hand and influence of the Church, and not what it preached. The two were vastly different things, and he had long ago realized this and let go of his grudges and biases. He had to, if he was to function in such a multifaceted world as it was as a mercenary. "Having faith can lead a person far, and well, in life, and I find that admirable. Living to devote yourself to a god, goddess, or spirit, in order to better yourself and the world about you is not wrong, nor is it something to scorn. But those in power are not the same as those who are devout, and their decisions aren't always for the good of their flock. Greed and power go hand in hand, whether it be for nobility, or for those in churches and other places of worship. I can dislike Rhea without disliking the idea of the Goddess she worships. I can dislike Garreg Mach, and not all who come here to study, worship, find peace, or train. They do not have to be mutually exclusive."

Flayn was silent as she drank in his words, and she wondered at the truth of them. He, and his sister, were both horrible liars, and she knew what he was saying was his honest opinion. And his actions, ever since his arrival, were also evidence to it. He kept himself away from the chapel, but never showed distaste for those who attended. He worked well amongst the Knights of Seiros, at least those who could see beyond his dislike of the Church, and had proven himself strong and capable despite any situation. She let out another tired breath, and tugged nervously at her hair before she muttered, "Then... If I may ask... What is it that you think of me, even knowing I have been spying on you? Even if not for my father, even if only for myself...?"

"I think you're one of my sister's precious students, and like every single one of the Blue Lions, you would never do her harm." Warin answered in a calm and matter-of-fact tone that brooked no further questioning. His eyes watched her closely, studying her furrowing brow, her tightening lips, but he continued on regardless, with his voice growing more serious with his every word, "Your loyalties have always been clear. To your family, to your Goddess, to your Church... But that doesn't mean you don't feel loyalty to Raine. You do, and that's why you're torn. But if the chips were down, if push came to shove... I believe you'd do right by her. Regardless of everything else. You have my trust, Flayn. You always have, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. You spied out of fear, not out of malice... And your intent changes the meaning of your actions."

"And what of the professor?"

"I think you know the answer to that without me needing to say so." Warin shook his head with gentle admonishment colouring his tone at the question of his sister. It didn't need explanation. At least, he didn't believe so. His sister had made it perfectly clear that her devotion to her students was paramount, even over her own well-being. Still, with everything that was happening, he supposed he could understand her concern, and her uncertainty. He leaned forward, face softening before he continued gently, "When has my sister ever given you reason to believe she distrusts you? And I know, your father is one thing and a man you love dearly, but how she sees him does not impact how she sees you. Does she treat you differently than the students she's taken under her wing? Or Petra, or Raphael? Allegiances, homeland, bloodlines... None of those things matter to her, either. You're all her students, and she'd put her life on the line for you. And she doesn't doubt for a moment you would do the same."

Flayn was quiet, and she looked down at her loosening hands as she took in his words once more and thought deeply on them. It was true. She could see it well enough... Raine had invited both Petra and Raphael into the Blue Lions without an ounce of hesitation, and had treated them as if they had been her own students right from the beginning. And, further, she had impressed on her house that they were to do the same. She took both active and passive measures to ensure cohesion, and that was what she valued most. Cohesion. Unity. It made her smile, albeit sadly, and she twisted her fingers into her hair as she murmured, "I realize... that what you are saying is the truth. And I ask you forgiveness for my intrusions on your meetings... I was wrong to doubt the professor... To think that she would think of me poorly. She has always trusted her students... and I am remiss in not giving her that same trust in return."

"Not so much remiss, I'd say... More hurt, and concerned. Which is reasonable." Warin disagreed with a shake of his head, and he offered her a small, sad smile of his own in response. He understood her, better than she thought he did. He had been watching them for the entirety of their tutelage underneath his sister, after all. And he had watched them even more closely since the beginning of the war. "Everyone, every single person here, has changed in some way... Has gone through trauma, and loss, and heartbreak. Everyone has secrets, everyone has something, or someone, they can't forgive or abide by... It's not wrong to have that cloud your judgement, and make you wonder, or hesitate... but don't let it dictate your actions from now on. Trust the people about you to do right by you, unless they give you reason not to."

"That is sage advice, Sir Warin... You are old beyond your years." Flayn mused with a slow, sombre shake of her head. He reminded her painfully of things she had lost, things she missed with an intense and ceaseless aching, and she wondered how much of it was his personality, his experience, or inheritance from his parents. Jeralt had been a wise man, too, if clumsy and grizzled... His son was much like him, looking one way, but acting another underneath the mask. As did his sister... It had to be a family trait, which made her frown all the more deeply as she looked at her hands sadly, "This war _has_ changed all of us. It makes me wish that things had not gone this way. That somehow, there could have been a means to coexist with those we now call our enemies... but, despite things, I... I am aware that is not how the world works. You are right. There are some things... Some people... that we cannot forgive, nor abide by. They are all different for every person, which is what causes such conflict... Is it inevitable? Will there always be war?"

"Humanity is flawed... We learn, but slowly. We aren't inclined to change. Nor are we patient. We're greedy, and weak, and always yearning for more, better things that are always just out of our reach... But that wanting, that desire for better things... I can't say that it's always a flaw." Warin took his turn to muse, and he turned his head slightly, beyond the closed door and in the direction of the library where he had left Dimitri and his sister. They were fighting for better things. For more than the hand they had been dealt... He knew it would never last, because things were never meant to last, but he couldn't call them, or their ideals, foolish. After all, he was there, fighting with them, wasn't he? "From the start of history, we've been fighting. I don't see that changing in my generation, nor in the generations to follow. It might be millennia, before we as a species are wise enough to understand violence breeds nothing but suffering. Maybe we never understand... But a few good people, with the right hearts, minds, and strength can change the world a little bit at a time, all the same. That's worth keeping in mind when things seem bleak."

Flayn tilted her head, watching the way his eyes turned, and that warmth that flickered up in the depth of his navy irises. He was speaking of his sister. His face always gentled, and the stern lines in his brow always disappeared whenever he thought of her. He was pessimistic, and he didn't have much faith in his kind, or in most others... but he did have full belief in his sister, regardless of what experience had taught him. He was and always would be her most fervent supporter, her closest ally, and her left hand, no matter where she went, or what she did. They were family, and that simple fact came before anything and everything that stood before them.

It made her ache, and she wondered when she had begun to doubt, and to hesitate and worry. Perhaps it had been long, long ago, when she had first seen blood. Or perhaps it had been later, when she had looked up into those friendly, formerly navy eyes, and seen a kind soul flickering in those eyes that had once seemed so flat and emotionless. Her professor was a kind woman. Kinder than she deserved to be, after all she had lost and suffered through... and that suffering had touched Flayn's soul deeply. Pain was her antithesis. She hated to see anyone wounded, whether physically or spiritually. And the hurt her professor carried, silently, carefully, gingerly... She let out a long, trembling breath, and closed her eyes tightly for a moment.

She was a traitor, regardless of what Warin said. She was aware of it now. Back then, she had been happy to follow after her father and Rhea, believing they knew best, but now...? Now, she was not so sure. Her faith had been shaken, and she had been questioning ever since the enormity of it all had fallen onto her shoulders. Questions, so many questions, had run through her head, and made her wonder... but she still had no answers. Rhea was gone, and her father guarded her secrets zealously. She could not give her professor, or her brother, what they sought, even though she wished she could. It would only be pieces, tiny, scattered pieces, that would make no sense to them without Rhea there to give them the entirety of the picture.

Another breath escaped her, but she also felt strength beginning to return to her spine as she did so. She remembered Raphael's playful advice about exercise, his sage wisdom of mourning, and his unending kindness in indulging her whenever she asked for his attention. He had taught her much, and she loved him so for it. He, too, was wise beyond his years, and he never failed to extend a hand whether it was needed or not... and she was well aware, painfully aware, of the fact that without Raine and Warin, she would have never met him, and likely never would have experienced life as a student, a comrade, or a friend.

Flayn opened her eyes and sought out Warin's gaze as she felt that spirit of hers, inherited by her loving, late mother, sparked back into existence. Everything she had questioned was no more, and once again she was settled in herself and her ways. She knew her path now, and there was no time, or need, to look away from it any longer. She held Warin's stare, firm, unwavering, and spoke in a calm, clear voice now, "Sir Warin... When the time comes, I will tell you, and your sister, all of my secrets. They will help you, in the time to come... but I am afraid I cannot do it on my own. I will need my father, as well as Rhea, to be able to paint you the entirety of the truth you seek. As am I now, what I would say would not make sense to you, and I doubt you would believe it. Furthermore, what I know is not entirely what you seek, and therefore would not help you where you wish for it. But, when Rhea is rescued, and all comes to light... I will be you ally, as I have always been. I swear to you, and to the professor... that I will not sway from your side."

"That's unnecessary... but I appreciate the sentiment, all the same. You should speak to Raine sometime this week, though, not me. She's the one who would benefit most from hearing your worries, and you from her easing your fears." Warin answered her with a shake of his head, but his lips quirked nonetheless despite his words. It was a genuine and touching gesture, and one he knew not to discount. It was nice, to be spoken to so genuinely without heat or acid, though he admitted he wasn't entirely sure how to handle it. Flayn, after all, was Raine's student, and he dealt with them only in professional settings rather than personal ones. The one upholding the code was gone, but he still kept to himself out of habit. He supposed that was just another flaw of his, and what he missed out on as consequence was only a thing of his own doing.

"Perhaps I will, when she is feeling better... And speaking of such matters... I'd see you arm again, Sir Warin." Flayn shook away the remnants of tension in her body, and without preamble she again reached for Warin's arm with firm gentleness and no brooking of arguments. Warin was an easy patient, always willing to be handled and follow instructs without complaint, and he never questioned those he thought to be more skilled than he was. She appreciated that about him, his professionalism that allowed him to see beyond her youthful features and accept her talent and skill for what it was, rather than what others thought it to be. Careful, inquisitive fingers traced along his skin with purpose now, and she murmured idly as she detected the remaining damage without much trouble, "The bones are setting nicely, but I'm afraid it will be at least a week longer before I can allow you to return to training... And you've had no problems with movement, or numbness?"

"No, it's as it always has been. Flares of pain occasionally, but nothing I haven't come to expect. It's manageable as it is. I've no need for tonics or ale to keep it away." Warin answered positively, and he gave her exactly what he knew she wanted to know. She seemed to be quite aware of the habits of mercenaries and dealing with wounds, and she had given him due warning to stay far and away from the taverns, and he had kept to her advice sagely. He had no desire to drink as it was, as he knew it was only a momentary salve, and a quick way to form a terrible habit. "The burn on my free arm however feels to have healed properly. I've no pain there any longer... but I don't intend to train until both of my arms have your seal of approval."

"As it should be. The last thing we need is to have you crippled... but your blood is strong... You respond very well to healing magic, and that saved you from permanent injury. Though, that's to be expected, with the Crest you bear." Flayn nodded in approval, and her fingertips began to spark a gentle shade of green as she laid her palm over the worst of the hurt she had detected in her search. Warin closed his eyes, holding himself still for her, and she was quick and efficient as she spread her magic across his forearm to allow it to sink in deep where it as needed most. "You're hardy, and strong. You'll heal well, once this is over. I imagine I will only need a day or two more of our visits, and then you will be free to rest for the remainder of the week before you can return to your usual routine. That will not trouble you, I hope?"

"No. It'll be fine. I've books to read in the interim, so it's not as if I'll be bored." Warin answered with an errant shrug of his shoulders, and as Flayn withdrew her hand as her magic subsided in a sizzle of sparks, he began to flex his fingers slowly. There was still an ache deep, deep in his forearm, but the pain was numb and dull. It was nowhere near as bad as it had been, and he could feel her magic numbing the pain still further to allow his muscles and bones to mend. He glanced up, watching as Flayn took in a deep breath, and he questioned with a slight tilt to his head, "And you? Will you be well after all of this?"

"Oh, this is nothing compared to how it can be on the battlefield, or right after a skirmish. We were quite lucky in Derdriu, all things considered. There were only several soldiers with grievous wounds, and with the Alliance forces now joining us here in Garreg Mach, we've no short supply of healers." Flayn waved away the concern, though she did appreciate the kindness in his asking. But she was being honest. The infirmary's numbers had bolstered with Marianne and Lindhart joining the rebellion's ranks, though she was aware the former Black Eagle had no intention of going to battle. He had only volunteered his services in healing because Lysithea had thrown in her lot with Raine and had made no question about her choosing to return to the fight when the truth had reached her ears. It seemed all quite personal for the white-haired sorceress, but Flayn knew better than to stick her nose where it wasn't wanted in those kind of matters. "Marianne and Lindhart are both extremely skilled, and they've taken the load off of Mercedes, Dorothea and Professor Manuela. Everyone is enjoying a break of sorts, with the bolstered numbers we now have... And it is very nice to see old friends again. Raphael hasn't stopped smiling in days."

"That sounds quite like him..." Warin flexed his fingers again before rolling his shoulder, and was satisfied when his movement was met with only a dull twinge of an ache. He stood slowly, stretching out his tense muscles and letting out a sigh as the weight he hadn't realized he had been carrying slid off of his shoulders. It felt good to have the secrecy cleared, to see Flayn relaxed and at home in her natural environment again. She would still need to clear the air with his sister, but he didn't doubt it'd happen soon enough. Raine would be back amongst her duties in a day or two after a well-earned break, and she would deal with it when she returned. He returned his arm to its sling, wincing slightly despite himself before asking idly, "Tomorrow, then? Same time?"

"Yes, that will be quite fine. I will be here, as always." Flayn replied with a nod, and she, too, stood and dusted off the edges of her skirt as she did so. Warin waited for her patiently, and she offered a small smile at this odd routine she had noticed. He never left before she did, at least, not when it was clear she had no other patients to be attending to for the day. He always, without fail, escorted her from the room before they parted ways. It was an odd act, one she wasn't entirely sure why he performed, but she appreciated his politeness nonetheless as he walked her to the door. She nodded to him kindly, her smile gentle and honest when she spoke again, "Have a good day, Sir Warin. I shall you again tomorrow."

"Likewise." Warin returned her nod with one of his own, watching as she turned down the hall for the staircase without another word. He waited, watching her disappear before he likewise began his exit. He, however, turned back for the library, checking out the window to see where the sun now stood in the sky to measure how long he had been in the infirmary with Flayn. Though it hadn't felt long, the sun was finished its cresting and was beginning to turn, a sign of the afternoon, and he sighed as he mused he wouldn't have much time to search the library. He was expected back in his quarters well before nightfall, a safety measure to ensure he wasn't training against orders, and he didn't want to once more be on the business end of an angry Shamir.

The library doors were cracked open, proof his sister and Dimitri had left long ago after their conversation with Claude. He could hear nothing from inside, and was glad to know he could have a few minutes without being disturbed. He knew where the book he wanted usually sat, if it hadn't been taken out already, so his chore wouldn't take too long if he was quick about it. He nudged open the doors with his shoulder, musing to himself as he went, "Third shelf from the right, bottom row... Seventh on the line, I think...?"

" _Looking for this, are you_?"

The sudden voice from inside nearly sent him leaping clear out of his skin, but what startled him most after he regained his composure was that the voice that had spoken to him had not been speaking to him in the native tongue of Fódlan. It had been in flawless, slightly accented Dagdan. He looked up sharply, and his face reddened as he spotted Shamir idly lounging on the end of one of the many long-tables farther in the library, the book he had been seeking dangling from her fingers as she waved it at him in greeting. The books he had been hiding in their room were piled up next to her on her right, more proof that he had been found out, and he was at a loss for words as those sharp, wine-coloured eyes watched him with that sadistic amusement he was quite used to seeing on her face these days.

" _Oh? Can you not understand me?_ " Shamir continued in Dagdan, her smile catty and her eyes glinting both playfully and sharply as she set the book he had been seeking down on her knees. Warin's lack of movement was more than enough of an answer that he indeed did understand what she was saying, and the fact that his face had reddened so sharply was proof he hadn't wanted her to know. She admitted, she hadn't known what to think when she had discovered the volumes on Dagda's language hidden away in their shared quarters, but with his added lateness to return, she had decided it best to confront him rather than wait. She tapped on the book's hard covering with her nails, and she mused with a chuckle, never once slipping back into the native tongue of her employer's country as she did so, " _If you've been studying as hard as it looks, you must be able to have a grasp of what I'm saying now._ "

" _I understand you well enough, I think..._ " Warin's answer came calmly, smoothly, though his unease in speaking a language he clearly didn't have much practical use of showed in his pronunciation and inflection. He shifted uncomfortably, rubbing a hand through his hair before he coughed and shook his head. He switched back to his mother tongue, knowing full well his education hadn't gone on long enough for him to have a true conversation in full Dagdan without making himself out to look like a total fool as he sighed, "Caught out, I suppose... Are you angry with me?"

"Not so much angry as I am surprised." Shamir admitted, as she, too, dropped back into the more common language they were used to conversing in. She crossed her legs, watching him closely as his eyes flitted from her face, to the books by her knee, and then back to her. He looked ready to receive a lashing, though she didn't quite understand why. His education was his business, not hers, though she did admit she wasn't sure why he was bothering to study the language of her homeland. It wasn't as if she had any attachment to Dagda, and she had never spoken or even considered plans to return. Finding the books in their quarters had been a surprise, though not entirely an unpleasant one. He clearly didn't want her to know, for whatever reason that was, which was why she had chosen to catch him in the act in the first place. "Why are you studying this, and making such an effort to keep it a secret? Were you hoping to woo me with a shared language?"

"It was meant to be a surprise when I was more fluent... but unfortunately, I didn't hide my materials well enough. I'm not very good at picking up new languages, it seems. History is more my forte." Warin answered without a shred of shame, and he shrugged his shoulders before idly nosing the door behind him closed with his boot. He hadn't had anyone in the monastery to turn to in his studies, as no one here spoke Dagdan besides her, and going to her risked being turned down outright, or worse, mocked. "It's a useful skill, knowing how to speak more than one tongue... and it's _your_ tongue. I assumed you'd be pleased to know I had tried to learn it."

"Tried being the operative word. I imagine you can write it better than you can speak it at the moment. You obviously haven't had many attempts to put your learning into practise." Shamir noted with a raised eyebrow, and Warin nodded absently in affirmation. His expression was partially embarrassed, partially awkward, but there wasn't a hint of guilt. He clearly didn't care that he had been caught as much as he felt he had been doing something she may have liked to be surprised by. And the thought, admittedly, did make her cheeks warm a little with pleasure. She had guessed it had to do with her, because there was no other reason for him to be doing it, but to have him admit it outright... She sighed, leaning back on her hands as she looked to him with a raised eyebrow, "I suppose I can help you with that, if I must. You'll never be able to speak fluently unless you actually practise."

"You... don't mind?"

"You picked it up for me, didn't you? I may as well help you. But I'm not a teacher, and you know full well I don't have the patience to try. If you want my help, you best not complain." Shamir replied flippantly, and she waved her hand in a vague gesture before settling it back down on the books she had nicked from his hiding place in their shared quarters. She paused and glanced down, looking at the silver band that had found its home on her ring finger, and abruptly her lips thinned as a tightness formed in her chest. She paused, her carefree expression furrowing into a slight frown, and she tapped one finger on the hard cover before she spoke again, not looking up to see his face when she did, "You know this isn't necessary, though, yeah? You learning Dagdan. I don't need to be reminded of where I was born. I don't miss it, nor the memories associated with it. That was another lifetime. One I've put behind me. You don't need to insert yourself into it."

"There's no such thing as another lifetime. You're alive here and now, and all your experiences have made you into who you are, including your time in Dagda. You may not miss it, but it's still a part of you, isn't it? I want to know that part of you, in whatever small ways I can." Warin answered bluntly, and Shamir blinked in surprise as he looked to her almost with a stern glint in his navy eyes. It was rare, outside of topics of politics or the church, or on the battlefield, that he ever spoke in a harsh tone to her. It didn't seem to come naturally to him to speak in his usual manner to a woman. That clipped, curt tone was a professional touch, one he used to keep people at bay, not to make a point. But now he was watching her closely, eyes narrowed and his body language tense as he continued on firmly, "I'm not attempting to walk in the shadow of a ghost, if that's your concern. I know you don't view me as a replacement, or a stand-in. I'm doing this for my own satisfaction, and for no other reason. I want to know the world you came from. Studying your language seemed like a good way to do so. If that bothers you, I'll quit, but don't brush aside your history so lightly in an attempt to placate me."

Shamir blinked several times, caught off guard and not quite sure what kind of response was appropriate to such a heated and sharp remark. He meant it. She knew he did. He wouldn't ever bare his fangs at her without a damned good reason, and he clearly believed this to be one. It made her hesitate, as well as wonder what had gotten into him to make him feel so intensely about it. She knew already he was a man of action over words, and he showed his affection in that way, too. Tokens, acts, gestures were all second nature to him, and she had learned quickly that it was all he really needed to get across the things he sometimes stumbled over when he spoke. And he could speak well, too many long, quiet nights laying in each other's arms, spent and slicked with sweat with sleep far off had proven he had the heart of a poet when he didn't allow his own mind to get in the way of his tongue.

Now, Shamir felt both humbled, and slightly ashamed by her own words. Their worldviews were usually much closer aligned than this, but he surprised her every so often with his philosophy, and his own, strange band of mercenary-like chivalry. She sat quiet, frowning, on the edge of the table as she wondered what was the best way, or if there even was a way, to really reply. He rarely brought up her partner, though she knew he was well aware of what had initially drawn her to him. He respected her privacy, he respected her history, but bringing it up meant it still weighed on him in some way, despite the fact that they had been sharing a bed now for moons. The thought was heavy, and furrowed her brow still further as she bit her lip and wondered why she felt lost for an answer.

Warin's expression softened as he realized he had struck a nerve, and he let out a long breath before he pulled himself away from the door. He was quiet, slow, in his approach, and Shamir watched him with careful, guarded eyes. She didn't move from where she sat, but nor did she look all that welcoming, but he didn't mind. He understood he had crossed a line, but... He paused when they were knee to knee, and with his good hand, he reached out to touch hers. She allowed him to pick it up, feeling his callused thumb brushing along the band he had given to her, and he squeezed gently before sighing in Dagdan, " _Would it be so awful to say I love you like this?_ "

Shamir twitched, eyes widening a little at his voice speaking those words in a language she had almost stopped using years ago. His voice was not like her partner's, but the words were the same... yet the feeling in her chest couldn't be more different. It ached, deep and hot, in a way that she had never truly felt before. His voice was quiet, contemplative, and it hurt to hear him musing on the idea that she didn't want to hear him say he loved her. She swallowed, feeling a tight knot rising in her throat, and her fingers closed thoughtlessly on his hand to keep it about her own before she answered instinctively, " _Not at all... I'm sorry. That was thoughtless of me. I should know better by now._ "

Warin hesitated, brow furrowing as he failed to understand most of her murmured reply due to the volume of her voice. When she had first spoken to him her words had been clear and loud, easy for him to decipher, but now... Close as they were, he still wasn't practised enough to pick up on quietly muttered words, and it left him floundering. He shook his head after a moment of searching through his brain, trying to remember his lessons, but failing all the same. He finally pulled away slightly, looking away with a mixture of embarrassment and shame before he admitted as her hand clung too tightly to his to even allow him the thought of pulling out of her grasp, "I... I'm afraid I didn't catch all of that..."

Shamir smiled despite herself, realizing she had responded in her home tongue without meaning to at his declaration. It weighed heavy on her shoulders, but not in a way she found uncomfortable. It was more like a cloak, a thick, warm blanket to guard against the cold of the past and the grasping fingers of a history she wished to forget because of the pain of loss. While it stung, reminded of her losses, there was also something sweet to it, too... A balm, of sorts, she supposed. She tugged at his hand, pulling him closer as she slid down from the table in tandem. She leaned against his chest, closing her eyes as her free hand reached about his waist to hug him before she repeated quietly, "I'm sorry... It was thoughtless of me to be so harsh. I should know better by now that you don't do anything because you feel an obligation to do it. It's a sweet gesture, and one I should appreciate."

"If you don't appreciate it, I won't continue. I'm not about to do something that makes you uncomfortable." Warin reassured her quietly, and his good arm wrapped itself snugly about her hips as she nestled more closely into his chest. She was minding the sling despite how well it put a buffer between their bodies, and he wished he could pull his arm free, but he knew full well she'd scold him for it if he did. He could only manage with what he had, so he nuzzled against her cheek in lieu of holding her more tightly before he sighed, "I should have told you my intent rather than hiding it. That's my own fault. You could have told me from the outset if you didn't want me to do it."

"And ruin the surprise? That's not quite fair." Shamir answered with a slight shake to her head, and she pressed herself just a little bit closer before she allowed herself to pull back and look at him. His navy eyes were gentle, pools of dark, deep colour that made her want to drown in them, and she allowed herself a moment to just study him before she finally lifted her fingers and stroked his cheek. Automatically, thoughtlessly, they slid down to his throat, tracing his scar before it lost itself underneath his tunic's collar, and she mused as he tilted his head for her, allowing her as much room as she could get without question or complaint, "It truly isn't as if I dislike it... Honestly, hearing you say you love me in my own language... feels surprisingly nice. It's a little... much, to take in all at once, but I don't want you to stop on my account."

"You're sure?"

Shamir raised an eyebrow at the question that did not need asking, and Warin reflexively dropped his head in realization. She rolled her eyes slightly, exasperated by his willingness to bend to her will without so much as a word of protest. For all of his spine, and he had one made of the strongest ore she knew of, he was little more than putty between her fingers. It was something she loved about him, that he let everything go when they were together and had no use for masks or barriers, but sometimes it also felt as if she was taking advantage. She, still, had her defences up... and she hadn't realized it until he had pricked himself on her shields.

The guilt stung. He was so free with her, but she hadn't given him the same courtesy despite believing she had. Ever since their first night, when he had lost control and succumbed to fear, he hadn't bothered trying again to hide himself from her. She wouldn't let him even if he wanted to. He had ceded to her selfish demands to be at his side, day and night, and he had given her an open door rather than a key to let herself in whenever she pleased. She owed him that same trust and confidence. It wouldn't be fair if she gave him anything less. The thought made her sigh, and she stood a little taller before stealing a soft, quick kiss and murmuring, "I love you, you idiot... More than I know, sometimes, apparently. You're lucky you're wounded, or else I'd have you on the table right now."

Warin felt a plume of heat make its way both up into his face and deep into his groin at her flippant words, and his mind immediately began to wander with ideas that he knew he shouldn't be entertaining. He hadn't exactly locked the door behind him, and the risk that someone would walk into the library and catch them in the act was far too high for his comfort. Stealing moments late at night on the training grounds, or in hallways between their rounds was one thing, but here was pushing a boundary he wasn't willing to cross. He shifted his arm in the sling awkwardly, eyes darting for the door despite himself as he answered back uncertainly, "It's not as if I'd be complaining, but..."

"Don't start. You're still healing, and I won't be greedy and interrupt that for my own wants." Shamir replied with a gentle prod to his ribs, but her face had dusted itself pink to prove her own thoughts had begun to roam just as his had. She didn't exactly regret it, she was always forthright about how much she wanted him, and she wasn't shy about her body, or his, for that matter, either. She was confident and at home with her sex, and it had been a pleasant, and exciting journey to give him all of the experience she had under her belt. Still... He was warm and strong despite his injuries, and she did admittedly wish he would heal a little bit faster so she could feel both of his hands on her again soon. He had suffered a blow in Derdriu, and seeing it firsthand had been more than enough to remind her that he was in many ways still as fragile as he had been that first night they had shared a bed.

"Later, then..." Warin promised with a wry twist of a smile, and his good hand slid up the curves of her waist and side before his knuckles trailed along her cheek tenderly. She leaned into his touch, reaching to grasp his wrist to hold his hand to her face, and he was glad to oblige her by extending his fingers to cup her cheek. She nuzzled into his palm at once, closing her eyes and breathing in his scent, and he ached both emotionally and physically with want of her before he continued with a sigh of his own, "When I'm discharged, you can have me however you wish."

"Don't make that promise lightly. I might not let you sleep for a _very_ long time. You owe me." Shamir warned him without opening her eyes, and her chest tightened despite itself with memory of how he had looked that day, ragged, bloody, dirty and defeated on the stones of Derdriu. The young Alliance girl had done her best to heal him, but the pain that had lined his face and the lifeless way his arms hung at his side... She had shuddered with fear and dismay, and had been overwhelmed with rage and self-hatred at the same time. If only she had gone with him, instead of allowing him to dive in by himself. The forces crossing the Almyran boats hadn't needed her bow as much as the ones inside of Derdriu clearly had, but there was nothing that could be done after the dust had settled. She supposed she would have to live with that, with the fear and worry and self-loathing, but it only made her all the more firm in her decision to be near him at all times. "Orders or no orders... You stay with me from now on."

"I think I can easily convince Raine that's a better idea than splitting us up again." Warin offered lightly, but he understood the tone under her words despite all of her best efforts to conceal it. He knew she had masked her worry with harsh words and anger in Derdriu, and she was still prickly even now... but considering the state of himself, he couldn't find the will to chastise her for it. After all, even if the odds were stacked against them, what they both wanted meant that they _both_ had to come out of the war alive. It would be meaningless if the other died, even if it led to victory. He wrapped his arm again about her waist, pulling her gently to him before remarking errantly, "Considering the plans for the coming invasion of Merceus, I see no reason why she'd refuse anyway."

"That can be saved for later. I'd rather not talk work right now." Shamir dismissed him with an errant shake of her head, and she turned away from him before plucking the books she had snatched from their quarters off of the table. He watched her respectfully, clearly willing to follow her lead, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to hide her smile. Still putty in her fingers, but she adored him for it. She nodded to the door as she cradled the books to her chest and told him in a matter-of-fact tone, "On with you. Our quarters. You're still barred from training, so I may as well start with teaching you how to properly speak Dagdan in the meantime."

Warin fought a smile as Shamir dodged out of his arms and for the door, easily willing to leave him in the dust if he chose not to follow. He was quick to catch up and shadow her heels, glad to be behind her so he didn't have to hide his amusement at her antics. She was covering for her embarrassment at taking up a teaching role, and he knew already from her time with Cyril that she didn't consider herself much of a tutor. She was a mercenary, first and foremost, and skilled as she was, it didn't mean she could pass on her experience so easily. Cyril was simply stubborn and had a good eye for picking up things he watched, and he, himself, had learned from her through constant sparring matches. Still, he couldn't quite hide his humour as he asked her half-seriously, "Does that mean I'll have to start addressing you as my professor?"

"Do it, and I'll drop you faster than you can blink, you idiot..."

"Master, then. I can do that."

"I swear..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Flayn and her interactions and her lack of a role in the aftermath of Grondor was questioned awhile ago, and while I always intended to address it, sadly time constraints made it something I had to put aside. There's just so much content I need to cover that things get swept up and pushed aside in order for me to focus on other more "pressing" topics. It's difficult, picking and choosing what material I need to reference and include, when I want to do everything I possibly can, but unfortunately that's the reality of doing a "rewrite" or even a "companion" story. It's a bit overwhelming at times, and with things being as they are, I'm feeling more and more stress about how I intend to continue this story. But I am trying my best, and want to draw this to a satisfying conclusion eventually... but it'll take more time than I wish it would.
> 
> As always, I've not been doing my best. Animal Crossing is a wonderful diversion, but I've been in a great deal of pain these past few weeks. Old injuries act up when the weather fluctuates, and things in my neck of the woods have been dropping and rising by ten or so degrees almost over the course of a single day. It's very hard on me physically, and I've been relying on painkillers more often than I've used to. Makes me super lethargic and robs me of motivation. This piece took a hell of a long time to complete as consequence, but I'm hoping the coming weeks will be kinder to me. Spring needs to settle its ass down!
> 
> Anywhosit... Thank you as always for reading this far, and please drop me a review should you feel the need. I always appreciate your feedback, and am glad to be able to provide entertainment in these annoying times. I hope you guys are staying healthy and amused in your own quarantine. Stay safe, everybody!
> 
> Mood: Sleepy.
> 
> Listening To: "Hallelujah" - The Canadian Tenors
> 
> ~ Sky


	22. The Shadows of the Javelins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: War, Mystery, Hurt/Comfort, Conspiracy, Friendship, Ideology. (T)
> 
> Characters: Raine, Dimitri, Claude, Leonie, Seteth.
> 
> Summary: It was meant to be a victory, a great undertaking with even greater rewards, and yet... In a flash of a light, in a handful of moments, everything they had fought for was lost. Their dead, their enemies, their rewards were taken from them as the javelins of light fell out of the sky like shooting stars, and they stood in the aftermath with horror and dawning realization. This was the true power of their foes. The true strength of those who hid behind the Flame Emperor. Was there a chance of victory, when their enemies could wipe an entire fortress from the map with rain of hellfire from the sky itself?

**Blue Sea Moon**

**Fort Merceus**

**Afternoon**

The battle had been all but won. The Death Knight had been cornered on the farthest parapet, his soldiers routed and the fortress retaken despite his furious endeavours to drive them off. With the Alliance forces flying in from the rear while the Kingdom's army marched in from the southern doors, they had crushed the Imperial troops between them. The fighting had been bloody, the defending army had fought wildly for their lives, but they had taken inch after inch of territory until finally, only the commander, only the Death Knight, had remained standing. His armour dented and nicked, his great scythe dripping blood and his eyes furiously glinting through that skull-shaped helmet, but still standing proud and strong despite it all on his jet-black stallion. He was surrounded. There was no escape for him, no mercy awaiting him, and even if he would stand defiant to the end, the end would still come and their total victory would be assured.

Then... It had all gone so horribly wrong.

The fortress was... gone. There was no other way to describe it. Where the Stubborn Old General had once stood, guarding the pathway to Enbarr, there was now only smoke and ruins. The homes, the battalions, the great walls were all now nothing but rubble, and the crater-like shape that was left over was full of stone, brick, fire and corpses. The falling javelins of light had spared no one, and everything they had fallen upon, man, beast or building, had been blown to bits in a bright flash of blinding white heat.

The Death Knight's warning, as well as Warin's booming roar of an order to evacuate immediately had spared many of their forces, but the losses they had taken were heavy all the same. Raine couldn't recall the last time she had been so grateful for her brother's sixth sense, as the moment the Death Knight had spoken, Warin had seized the nearest man to him and demanded he get their troops out of the fortress, immediately. For himself, Warin had followed the Death Knight's lead, leaping headlong from the parapet and to the ground below, and his men had followed after him at once without needing further prompting. Raine had taken a moment for herself to urge her soldiers to follow suit, with a shout to Petra to get the rest of their men fleeing with her vantage point atop her wyvern.

Then the javelins had struck, bringing with them heat, light, and a shrieking noise thousands of times louder than the most feral of wyverns. It was impossible to describe, the destruction and sheer power they had wrought, and Raine was reminded numbly of the tale of Ailell. She had only seen three streaking objects through the sky, had counted three deafening blasts of explosive fury, but three had been more than enough to lay the entirety of the great Imperial fort to absolute waste. If the weapons that had brought Fort Merceus to rubble had been the same ones used in Ailell, she had to count her blessings that so few had struck them. Two more, even just one more... They all could have lost their lives in the blast, and a second Valley of Torment would have been born.

'A second... valley...? Ailell... The Goddess' wrath...?' The thought made Raine's blood run cold, and though her ears were still ringing, the entirety of the world turned grey and distant as her stomach heaved impulsively. Pieces of the puzzle she had long been suffering over, trying to understand, had abruptly fallen into place as she thought deeply on what she had just seen, and what she had heard that first time they had crossed that cursed place the Goddess had apparently destroyed in a fit of pique. 'No. The javelins of light weren't her doing... They couldn't have been... The Church of Seiros has no reason to be attacking their own forces... Especially with Seteth here, leading the charge...? No. This was something else. _Someone_ else... So, in Ailell... It was someone else, too, wasn't it...?'

"... -aine! Raine?!"

Hands on her shoulders snapped her back to the present, and though the voice sounded distant, muffled almost, Raine blinked several times as she looked up to see Dimitri staring at her with fear blazing raw and wild in his good cerulean eye. He had shook her shoulders before reaching to cup her face, his own drawn with worry and concern, and he was leaning in much closer than either would ever usually permit on the battlefield. Her eyes refocussed and she shook her head slowly against the gloved hands that were holding her face before beginning slowly, uncertainly, "D-Dimitri... Forgive me... I'm... just a little shaken..."

"Are you wounded?" Dimitri asked tersely, and his hands slid slowly back to her shoulders as his eyes flickered carefully across her body in search. There was dust and ash and blood staining her armour, but he could see nothing beyond the standard scrapes and scuffs that accompanied a usual battle. Still, that meant nothing considering the ferocity of the fighting that had occurred, and he couldn't resist the urge to tighten his hold on her shoulders to reassure himself that she was still standing, still _there_ , when so many now were not.

"N-No... My ears are ringing, but... I think I'm all right." Raine shook her head again as she pulled herself harshly from her reverie to come back to the situation at hand. That worried look on his face made her ache, but it also was a terse reminder of what had happened then and now. That was far more important than her realizations and the thoughts that came with them, and she again shook her head before glancing about her at the wounded soldiers that had escaped the fortress and were now tending to themselves and their comrades. Both Kingdom and Alliance soldiers sat side by side, caring for one another without reserve or hesitation, and though it heartened her to see it, it still was a painful reminder of what they both had just suffered. "Our men... How many made it out safely? How many did we lose?"

"At a generous estimate... We lost at least a good twenty percent of our forces. The Alliance and Almyran troops fared better, with their wyverns, but... We've all taken losses today." Dimitri answered quietly, and he cast a wary, pained glance back to the ruins that held the corpses of all of the men that had fought. Though the Imperial army had came off the worse, there was no question that the destruction of the fortress was a true tragedy. There had been innocents living inside of the castle-like place as well as soldiers, and though they had been hidden away during the fighting, the attacks from the sky had ripped the fortress' bones from the earth and spared no one from the fire. "I believe we've your brother to thank for the small number. Had he not gave warning when he did... We may have lost many more soldiers and friends... But still... This remains a tragedy too bitter to taste. This was no victory."

"No. It wasn't..." Raine agreed with a slow, ragged breath, and she cast a wary glance about at her assembled men and noted the tired, shaken condition of the most of them she saw. It had to look like something out of a horrific nightmare, as it certainly felt like it, and there were no explanations to be had. There was a tense, uncertain silence hanging over the remaining troops scattered on the outskirts of the wreckage, and Raine had no idea how to even begin to try and explain the situation to them. "We can't stay here... We've no idea if a second attack could strike."

"Agreed... Yet, would we be safe in Garreg Mach? If those javelins of light could destroy Fort Merceus, could the monastery survive such a stroke?" Dimitri shook his own head, and his eye turned carefully, tiredly towards the still-smoking ruins at his back. He hadn't known what to think during the escape, it had been so frantic, so motivated by terror after that first stroke to the centre of the fortress, but now with time to decompress, and with the knowledge that Raine has successfully fled unscathed... He was suspicious and concerned, and rightfully so. "The power of the Empire... It's more than we bargained for."

"No. This isn't the Empire. Not solely. If it was, Derdriu, or Fhirdiad, would have been struck long ago... And if the Empire was capable of this, why didn't they unleash this terror on Garreg Mach from the beginning?" Raine disagreed with a shake of her head, and her eyes narrowed as Dimitri turned to look at her with dawning comprehension in his eye. She was glad he could follow her train of thought so effortlessly, but despite it all, she kept her voice low and tense as she explained for him, "Think of what Gilbert said happened to Ailell... Javelins of light laying waste to the valley, in a show of the Goddess' wrath for the people's sins... After this? I don't believe it for a moment. Why would the Goddess, compassionate, loving, and forgiving, loose such destruction? I think it's more likely to be the power of our enemies in the shadows... They did it once in Ailell, and now, boxed into a corner, they've done it again."

Dimitri's brow furrowed and he crossed his arms as he wondered at Raine's words and the deeper implied meanings. It meant once again that the Church of Seiros had altered history to suit their needs, if she was correct, but he admittedly couldn't see how she was wrong. He wouldn't believe this attack, calculated and destructive, had been the whims of the Goddess no matter how otherworldly and horrific it had to appear. It simply made no sense to chalk it up to divine intervention, especially when the Empire's main goal was the complete eradication of the Church to begin with. Yet... Dimitri mused aloud, not so much asking as he was letting his thoughts wander, "If the puppet-masters had this power at their disposal all this time, and yet withheld it... It must mean they only turned to it now in desperation. Obviously, they did not trust Edelgard with it... We have frightened them sufficiently enough for them to see us a true threat to their goals... Yet, I admit, I can't be pleased with this knowledge if this is the outcome."

"They've used it only once in all of our known history. It can't be something used lightly, or foolishly. There's little way to keep to the shadows if they use such brute shows of violence and destruction... And from what we know, they've played a very conservative hand for a reason. They want to manipulate their way to victory, not fight. That's a tactic of those outnumbered, or playing from a position of weakness. They must be afraid of us if they choose to do this to their own fort, their own men, rather than allow us to take it..." Raine murmured thoughtfully, and she rubbed at the bridge of her nose as her ears continued to ring dully from the echoes of the blast. She supposed she was lucky, she could still hear, after all, and she wondered if those closer to the centre had been worse off than her. She could only imagine... But her people, and Claude's, would want answers when they were finished taking stock of themselves. She had a duty to provide them, and it forced her on wearily, "Perhaps we've overestimated their numbers...? They chose the Empire as the home of their insurrection for a reason. Their army had always been vast, has it not?"

"From the days of the Ten Elites. Yes. The Empire has always had great strength... There is a reason Edelgard looked down upon the Alliance and Kingdom as "mere offshoots" of Andrestia. Of course, she never anticipated those mere offshoots joining forces in rebellion against her conquest." Dimitri answered with a slow nod, and he watched as Raine's eyes flickered again back to the devastation before her before lowering to the ground. Her face was drawn and pale, and though she was trying not to show it, he could see her body trembling as they stood together and spoke. He softened with concern and care, reaching out to brush his fingers along the back of her hand before he spoke quietly, "Come here for a moment..."

"Not out in the open, Dimitri..." Raine's protest was weak and half-hearted, but she didn't argue overmuch as Dimitri grasped her forearm and tugged her close. His arms encircled her easily, pulling her flush against his chest, and though his heavy armour prevented him from truly holding her to him... She felt comfort as she felt his firm strength supporting her body. What they had just seen, what had just happened was nothing short of terrifying. She had seen much more than her fair share of death and destruction since before the war, but what had descended on Fort Merceus had been something else entirely.

"No one will be bothered." Dimitri spoke huskily into her hair as he gave her svelte form a gentle, reassuring squeeze, and he was glad when he felt her relax against him despite it all. They had drawn firm rules about their interactions outside of their quarters, especially in front of their teammates and fellow generals, and on the battlefield there was never a good enough reason to forget themselves or their places as commander and future king. Still, he had to admit he didn't care. The moment demanded this, demanded comfort, and considering how badly his heart had pounded when the dust had cleared and he hadn't been able to pick her out amongst the men of the Kingdom and Alliance... "Give me this, for a moment at least... You're trembling."

Raine closed her eyes, resting her cheek against the thick fabric of his cloak as she wondered at how right he was. She hadn't realized it herself, that her body had retreated back into panic despite her mind's best efforts to compartmentalize it all, but there was little denying it now. Dimitri held her tightly enough that she could feel her very bones quivering with fright, and she sighed raggedly as her arms lifted and her hands clung to him in response. "So many dead... In _seconds_... I've seen battlefields, I've dreamt of wars and now I've lived it, but this...? I've never seen anything like this. And if _I'm_ afraid, what of our men? What do I tell them to urge them to continue onwards? When all we've done can be reduced to ashes in a flash of light?"

"You said so yourself, that we have pushed them far enough that now they bare their fangs at us... That speaks to how frightened _we_ make _them_. We are a threat. We are close to victory. To turn tail now, to stop when we are so close to an end... We would be disgracing all of those who have died thus far to get us here." Dimitri answered her firmly, and he gave her another long, lingering squeeze before drawing back to meet her quiet, pained seafoam-coloured gaze with his own. Despite everything, he felt steady. Holding her close had given him grounding, seeing her unhurt had reminded him that it was not yet a defeat, and though he knew they had taken losses... He would not allow his fear to shake him from the path he had chosen to walk. "I cannot guarantee anyone victory, or life, but I will fight to my last breath to try and ensure it for them. Even this does not change my wish for the future. It only solidifies my desire to see this war come to an end."

Raine said nothing at first, not sure how to answer, but feeling her chest ache with both pride and love for him at his declaration. He sounded like a true king, fervent and certain, and she couldn't help but marvel at how far he had come. He was calm and sure, his belief in her and all of them keeping him grounded even in the face of such horror, and she loved him dearly for it. His strength gave her peace, gave her the will to raise again, and she nuzzled just a little bit closer before she sighed again, "Thank you... I think I needed to hear that more than anything right now. Forgive me for wavering."

"You're permitted to falter, you know... You don't always need to project strength. Whenever you need to rest, or feel yourself ready to stumble, I'll be here for you to lean on." Dimitri reminded her gently, and his lips brushed in a soft, barely noticeable breath of a kiss on the top of her head before he finally allowed himself to release her. Still, his hand drifted along her arm, caressing its way to her face to brush away a smudge of ash from her cheek before he offered her a tight, but genuine smile, "I walk with you now... Side by side, hand in hand. You are not alone, Raine. Whatever it is to come, we will face it together."

"Mm... Thank you." Raine allowed a soft exhale as she raised her own hand, grasping at his wrist as she turned her face into his gloved palm to relish the feeling of his strong touch. It was comfort and warmth and everything she needed, though she dearly wished she could pull off his armour as well as her own to pull him closer and tighter. It didn't feel enough, even if she knew it was more than she could ask for in the circumstances. It didn't matter that their relationship was now well-known throughout the monastery, as they still had rules and obligations to follow on the field of battle. There and only there did they have to maintain a semblance of distance and professionalism, but she had never wanted to break the rules so desperately.

"Raine."

Her brother's voice brought the two of them turning about, and though they did not leap away from one another, they did pull back respectfully at the sound of him calling for his sister. Unlike most of the others, Warin looked the least worse for wear, though the sniper beside him couldn't say the same. Shamir was scuffed and nicked in several places, ash and blood streaking her clothes and face in testament to her closeness to the blast. She was wearing a headband of bandages tightly wrapped about her skull, and blood was already beginning to weep through the cloth in proof that whatever wound she had sustained it had been a deep one. Still, she didn't seem rattled in the slightest as she stood in Warin's shadow, allowing for him to speak first and for them both as he allowed Dimitri and Raine a moment to collect themselves, "Forgive me, but you're needed at the site of the blast. Claude is interrogating Seteth, and it isn't going well."

Raine closed her eyes for a moment, wishing for what had to be the thousandth time that Sothis was here to give her guidance and remind her of patience before she steeled her spine and forced her stomach to settle through sheer force of will. She didn't want to imagine how such a conversation between the two men sounded like, and from the grim look on her brother's face... She shook her head rapidly, clearing out the thoughts and returning to placid professionalism. "Very well... I have questions of my own for the man, but fill me in as we walk. Assessment?"

"Too many wounded to count. Death toll is higher than we'd like, as well." Warin reported at once as he turned to show them the way to the scene of the crime, and Shamir followed beside him briskly. He spared her a look, eyes flashing darkly with worry, but a simple shake of her head reminded him it wasn't the time or place. He turned back to Raine, forcing down his emotions as she had as he continued in a clipped, efficient tone, "We took the brunt of the losses, unfortunately. At least a quarter of our men. The Alliance fared much better. Five percent at the least, ten at the worst. The Almyrans came off best, I think they only lost a handful of their own, all considered. Their wyverns apparently flew off instinctively when the air first changed. As for the fortress... Well, you can see for yourself. No Imperial troops survived. Nor did the smallfolk within."

"Tch... Quite a victory. A quarter of our men lost, the fortress destroyed, and the smallfolk all dead... They'll pay for this in Enbarr when the time comes..." Raine muttered venomously under her breath, and though she knew Warin was the one with the heaviest grievance against Thales due to his loss in Derdriu, she still hoped her blade could find a home in his chest before all was said and done. He, and Edelgard both. Her hands curled into fists at her sides as she fought down the anger, working to remain calm despite herself as she returned to business as quickly as her temper would allow, "And the state of the wounded? How many will be able to return to Garreg Mach without crippling our healers?"

"The ones worse off are already making their way to the Great Bridge. Alois is guiding them. They won't make the trip back all the way to the monastery in the state they're in, but they're fortunately a small lot. They'll recuperate at the bridge and join with the main forces later, so not to divide our healers." Shamir spoke up then, her wine-coloured eyes sharp even as she pressed the heel of her hand against the already-damp spot on her headband of bandages. She would need it changed before she set out with the rest of the troops, but thankfully she knew she had time to seek out a healer. No one would march yet, not without taking stock of themselves and hearing reassurances from their leaders, but Alois had seen the sense of carting off the immobile and most in need of urgent care at once, and he hadn't waited for orders to do so. "Alois made sure to mention before he left that he understood he was acting without permission, but under the circumstances, he hopes you'll forgive him."

"He needn't worry. He's doing his duty as Knight-Captain." Raine waved away the thought with a small, tired smile playing at her lips at the very idea of the poor man thinking he needed to apologize for acting as he knew he should for those incapable of waiting. It was so like him, and she made a mental note to thank him profusely when they met up again. She was glad for his steadfast nature and his quick-thinking, and she knew she could trust him to always act in the best of faith. She glanced to Shamir, noting her injury with some concern before remarking gently, "And the state of the rest of our men?"

"In shock, mostly. Some are demanding we leave immediately, others refuse to move without orders. I can see the appeal of both, but the bickering is already beginning to get grating." Shamir answered plainly and with an errant shrug, and she dropped her hand back to her side so not to draw more attention to herself. It was bad enough, having been directly in the path of the flying shrapnel and taking a hit to the head, and the last thing she wanted was pitying eyes being made at her. She had been lucky in comparison to those who had been slower in their escape, and she wasn't about to act otherwise. "Claude is acting on his own, of course, and he marched straight to Seteth to demand explanations. He apparently believes he has the answers for what happened here."

"Seteth very well might have some knowledge of the means behind this mess, but acting as if he's the one who called down the sky won't do us any good. Claude will have us all turning on each other in days if he keeps acting so recklessly." Dimitri muttered with a shake of his head, and he wondered how quickly his disdain for his fellow "leader" could continue to grow. Claude cared nothing for decorum and professionalism, and he had shown that he would not take orders, and would keep his secrets to the bitter end of things. He was waiting them out, waiting for their promised secrets, but his patience was clearly finite. It made him grind his teeth, and he fully planned to wrench the man up by his shirt when he had a moment to bring him back firmly in line if that was what it would take to force him into silence. However, like the siblings before him, he knew he had to keep a level head for the moment, and he turned to the sniper and mercenary before giving his orders crisply, "Prepare those capable to march at once, and send them off to the monastery with Rodrigue. Anyone who can't leave immediately will be looked after here, and we will follow after them. Both of you, supervise the first group, and we will reconvene at the bridge, or the monastery. Whichever is reached first."

"Understood." Warin and Shamir replied in tandem, and without a backwards look they separated from the others to begin to attend to their new orders. They moved quickly, shoulders brushing as they disappeared into the throng of soldiers that had gathered on the fringes of the blast radius to lick their wounds and take stock on themselves, their supplies, and their comrades. Rodrigue and Gilbert would both be found there in the thick of things, tending to their men and keeping the most hotheaded on tight leashes, and as the pair vanished among the soldiers, Dimitri was supremely grateful for their experience and willingness to put their trust entirely in their orders.

"Prepare yourself for yet another battle..." Raine muttered under her breath as she and Dimitri moved onwards to where Claude and Seteth likely were, and only after a moment of walking could they overhear them well before they could see them. Claude's voice was raised and annoyed, filled with a righteous sort of indignation, and Seteth was replying with a surprising amount of calm even though he was matching Claude word for word and claim for claim. Claude was far more hotheaded and incapable of the finesse Seteth had from his lifetime of playing politics within the Church of Seiros, and the two were like oil and water as they argued.

Dimitri ground his teeth as he began to catch the words flying fast and freely, far too freely, and he fought down the instinctive surge of annoyance and wrath that Claude seemed so easily capable of inflaming in him. Accusations of secrecy, of duplicity, were flying from Claude's mouth, and while he, himself, knew and admitted that Seteth was not the most trustworthy of men... He also refused to believe that Seteth would ever do anything to put his own men, his own daughter, in danger if he could possibly prevent it. His loyalty to the Church was absolute, but he was not a tyrant, nor were his actions ever underhanded or selfish. He had fought alongside them for the entirety of the rebellion, and even if their personalities and wants clashed... Seteth was one of their soldiers, one of their generals, and he did not deserve to be treated as if he was an enemy without any conclusive sort of proof.

Claude's voice continued to rise, and as Dimitri and Raine approached them, they were surprised to see that the two were not alone. Leonie was standing at Claude's side, her arm hastily bandaged and nestled in a makeshift sling. She, like many others, had obviously come off luckier than most in the fighting, yet her appearance beside Claude seemed to be needling at his temper despite things. Seteth, for his credit, looked sympathetic for Leonie, but his expression as Claude continued to rail, his eyes hardened and his posture stiffened with barely contained anger that was furrowing his brow all the further and tightening his lips into a firm line, "You obviously know _something_ about all of this, but you're refusing to say a word of it! How many men died fighting at this fortress? If you knew the Empire was capable of this and refused to warn us, you're as complicit in their deaths as the ones who dropped the sky upon us!"

" _Enough_!" Dimitri's voice was a roll of thunder, breaking the trio apart and making Leonie almost leap clear out of her skin as she turned about to see the professor and future king arriving at the very outskirts of what had once been the walls of the great old Imperial fortress. They were surrounded by ruins, cracked and shattered stone, plumes of rising smoke being blown away in the gentle wind, with the stench of burnt flesh permeating the air. Dimitri ignored all of this as he strode forward, inserting himself cleanly into the argument, and he stood between the three, not giving either his back in order to prove he was defending no one as he continued in a fierce, commanding tone, "You will cease this immediately, do you understand me? The dead have yet to even be found and buried, and you think now is the time to be throwing about accusations and blame amongst your comrades? If you wish to fight, fight when we return to safety and your fellows cannot hear your slander and have their hearts poisoned against those they must entrust their lives to. You get away with enough Claude, but this I won't permit. We have lost enough today. We need not lose more to paranoia and your insipid desire to make enemies of anyone and everyone you deem worthy of mistrust."

"He wants us to return to Garreg Mach, as if that somehow is actually an option we can entertain. Look at what our enemies are capable of! An entire fortress, simply wiped clean off of the map because of the javelins of light that turned Ailell into a flaming wasteland... You wish for me to believe that Garreg Mach is safe from such power, too? I won't believe it, and I won't lose more men on _his_ word that the monastery is safe." Claude returned just as sharply, and he pointed an accusing finger in Seteth's direction with his eyes flaming in quiet, blazing fury. He stood almost protectively in front of Leonie, who was watching him with a tired, almost exasperated gaze, but he seemed immune to it as he continued in a growl, "I want answers, answers that I know that he has, but he won't tell us. I don't intend to put my neck on the chopping block, offering it up to Edelgard, because of something as foolhardy as trust. Especially in him."

"Oh, please... _Your_ men? If you mean the Almyran forces lead by Nader, then you've no foot to stand on. You lost less men than the Kingdom, Alliance, or Church forces today, and Leonie will be able to draw her bow before we even make it back to the monastery grounds. Don't play the part of a self-righteous commander in front of us. We all know full well it's a lie." Raine remarked with a roll of her eyes, and though Claude turned on her angrily, she met his venom with cold steel of her own. She was well and truly tired of him, tired of his implications and accusations, and moreso tired of his hypocrisy. He wasn't a leader, he was even less of a commander, and he had made it well known he was only with them because of his own self-interests. She wouldn't permit him to act as if he had joined them for any other reason, even if it meant that she had to stand up for Seteth in the process. Even if she personally disliked the man, she could at least say for him that he acted in complete honesty with himself, his goals, and his desires. "Unless you're finally willing to come out with it and explain what your connections to Almyra truly are? Because if you do, I may just give you some sympathy if they are truly _your_ men. So, speak up. You want to talk about secrets, then expose your own before you demand the same of anyone else."

"That is not necessary, Professor." Seteth broke in before Claude could begin yet another diatribe, and he was well aware the young wyvern rider was thinking of it from the angry flash in his eyes. He wasn't sure how Raine managed to do it, sliding herself underneath that calm, cheerful and conniving mask that Claude wore so often in order to prick his temper and reveal his true self and intentions, but she seemed to make it incredibly easy. She had been making a point to call him out at every given opportunity ever since he had given over his bow to the rebellion's cause, and he had noticed just how much tension it was causing at the war councils. Raine seemed entirely unbothered by it all, but Seteth was wary of causing more stress, especially considering the fallout of the day's battle. "I am merely advising an immediate retreat to Garreg Mach, where we will be safe to reconvene, lick our wounds, and then set out again from a place of strength into Enbarr."

"Well, I'll give Claude this much, he's right to suspect it will be safe." Raine replied with a small shrug, and she turned to Seteth and appraised him with careful, shrewd eyes as she felt Claude boiling quietly behind her. She was used to this, to his anger and disgust with her and Dimitri's ideals and plans for the war and what would come after, but she had made her peace with it. He, after all, was the one who said he would be leaving Fódlan behind when everything was said and done, and she didn't understand why he took it so personally if he truly wasn't going to be there to see what he claimed would be a failure of a future. Still, she paid him little mind as she watched Seteth carefully, and she did not mince words as she spoke flatly to him, "Do you have proof that Garreg Mach can withstand an attack of this calibre? This entire fortress, and everyone and everything in it, are gone, Seteth. Everyone here would expect the same result if the javelins were to fall again onto the monastery. Is it safe to return to?"

Seteth did not reply for a moment, weighing the harsh stares that were burning into him against the knowledge he held, as well as the feelings of unease and fear that he had seen rippling through the remaining troops of the rebellion's forces. He closed his eyes for a moment before letting out a slow, tired breath, and he turned his gaze back to Raine before he explained slowly, quietly, "I cannot provide you with physical evidence that the monastery will be safe from such an attack, yet... I know that it will be. Many, many long years ago, when the Goddess and Saint Seiros waged their wars, wards were placed above, around, and within Garreg Mach to protect it from evil magic. This attack... This devastation is too much alike the destruction of Ailell. The monastery was designed to be protected from such destruction."

"That would explain how it stood so tall even after the Empire's invasion... and also why these javelins of light never struck the monastery at all before it was even overrun. If Edelgard had meant to destroy it, why would she have not unleashed such a power?" Dimitri mused, thinking of Raine's words and conclusions and agreeing more than ever that she was finding the correct path and forging forward on it with both ease and fierce determination. Still, his brow furrowed slightly, and he tilted his head to the side, touching his chin in thought as he questioned, "If this is so like Ailell... Can we be safe to assume our enemies behind the Empire were also behind the destruction there, rather than it being caused by the Goddess, Seteth? Is this another instance of the Church hiding the truth, or bending it in order to protect itself?"

"That I cannot honestly say. Despite how it looks, and despite what you may believe... I do not know everything that there is to know about the Church and its history. The only one with such a complete knowledge is Rhea." Seteth admitted honestly, and he looked from accusing face to face, knowing full well he might be discarded as lying, and also accepting that it would be their right to think such things of him after so long. Yet, what had happened to the fort, what had happened to the rebellion's men and women, and almost to himself... He owed them truth, or at least, as much truth that he had access to. His eyes fell on Raine again, meeting her placid but piercing gaze and offering himself to it as he explained, "There was a period in my life when the Church and I were... separated, for lack of a better word. I was not always Rhea's right hand, and I do not know all that she knows. My knowledge may be vast, and varied, but I do not know all, and I cannot tell you all you wish to know. But what I _do_ know is that Garreg Mach is the _only_ place where we would be safe from this danger, and I would offer up my life in order to prove that."

Raine took a moment, watching Seteth's face closely as she took in his words as well as the tone of his voice when he spoke. She knew it was true, if only because of what her father had told her, as well as what Flayn had said to her during her teaching days. Seteth had not always been at the monastery, he had lived a life in seclusion with his daughter, and presumably also his wife, which meant that in some ways he was not as connected to Rhea and her secrets as it may have looked at first glance. She would give him that benefit of the doubt, that he did not know everything that Rhea did know about the monastery, but she was well aware that what he did know regarding her own mysteries was real enough. Still, this was not her personal problem, and she would not bring her own feelings into it as a consequence. She had to act as a professional, and she would do so with a nod as she told him, "I believe you... If you say that Garreg Mach is safe from this, then I see no reason to hold out and abandon our stronghold. While leaving this area and pulling back means losing our foothold, I'd much rather conserve the lives of our soldiers than worry about our way into Enbarr. The Empire lost more than we did today... We can take comfort in that, however small."

"Why are you believing him _now_?"

"Because we have no reason not to, and we need to think rationally. Seteth wouldn't lie about this, and moreover, if Seteth had truly been involved with this attack, he wouldn't have been here on the frontlines when it happened. Which, if you remember correctly, he was." Raine answered sharply, turning again on Claude and shooting him a dark, angry look at his continued persistence on pinning the blame squarely on Seteth. She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing, and she pointed out none too gently when Claude met her glare for glare, "And adding further credence to this, who else was fighting today? That's right, Flayn was. And if Seteth had even a remote connection to these javelins of light, Flayn would have never seen the battlefield. He may be willing to risk his life, but he would never risk his daughter's. Think on that a little, before you accuse anyone of being a spy, or a traitor to our cause. We all have things we love, and things we'd do anything to protect. Flayn is Seteth's. If anyone is to betray our cause, I'd wager they have a damned good reason to do so. If you wish to accuse anyone ever again in front of me, you best have proof in your hand in order to convince me that you mean well, and aren't just acting out of fright, or anger."

"You're all idiots. Every single one of you. Sometimes I think I'm the only one with an ounce of intelligence or sanity here." Claude growled out, and he shook his head and hands in disgust before marching off without a backwards glance. He headed straight for where the Almyrans had set up camp, and disappeared quickly into the brush. The whole way going he was muttering under his breath, his voice laced with expletives and unkind words that only vanished with him when the trees swallowed him, along the surviving men he had been leading inside of the fortress.

"Professor..." Leonie spoke up for the first time once Claude was well and truly gone, and her expression was equal mixture apologetic and somewhat saddened when she glanced up to Raine's curious, but calm eyes. She fidgeted somewhat, pulling on her ponytail with her uninjured hand, and her cheeks reddened a little before she finally continued under the curious looks of Raine, Dimitri, and Seteth, "Please don't be so harsh on Claude. I understand that he's... grating, and that his ideals, and his worldviews, don't match up with your own. But he _is_ genuine in what he wants for the world, and how he sees things. He was only angry because I had been injured, and he overreacted because of that. I won't defend him, because I know he was wrong to accuse Seteth... but he isn't truly a horrible person."

"I'll argue that until the end of my days, but that's because I've only been exposed to the worst of him since he came waltzing back into the rebellion's affairs. I understand you know him better than I do, and I won't discount that, but it isn't about to change my opinion of him, Leonie." Raine answered with a slow shake of her head, but she admitted she did feel sympathy as the young woman looked to her both pleadingly and with pain written clear across her face. There was genuine affection there, deep in her eyes, and despite things, Raine was very aware that it was reciprocal. Wherever Claude went, Leonie was always following, and it hadn't taken much for anyone to realize that in Hilda's place, Leonie had become Claude's right hand. When and how such a thing had happened, no one was sure, and none of the Golden Deer were willing to offer up information on their personal lives, but Raine knew a "clandestine" relationship between two former students when she saw it. "I know the two of you are close, and you feel obliged to defend him... That's fine. I've done the same in your position, so I won't fault you for it. But I cannot let him sow distrust in our ranks. Not when we're so close to Enbarr. It's too dangerous."

Leonie nodded slowly, understanding Raine's words and also grateful that she was not being given a harsh judgement for her instinctive urge to defend the young man who had changed her own view of the world with his words and ideals. She admitted wholeheartedly that Claude had completely changed her outlook on both her life and her way of seeing both the war and the way of the country she knew, but she also admitted that perhaps looking too far outside had blinded Claude to what was right in front of him. Still, she had to wonder if the opposite was true for those in front of her, and it made her question slowly, hesitantly, "Professor... Prince Dimitri... The outside world is large. What is happening here... It's only a tempest in a teacup, at least from the view of the entire world outside of here. What will you do when this war ends? Will you continue to let Fódlan stay wrapped up in its own little world, or will you let it expand beyond its borders?"

"I would see it expand, as many of our "enemies" are only enemies because of our inability to reach across the divides that separated us long before we were born... Yet, in that same vein, such things must happen slowly, and with caution." Dimitri answered slowly, and only after Raine looked to him with gentle assurance that he was welcome, and encouraged, to be honest about how he intended to handle the country he was meant to lead when this war came to an end. He shook his head slowly, frowning slightly before he admitted as he ran a hand tiredly across his face, "I would reach my hand still even to Edelgard, to try and understand what it is she wants, what it is she believes, even though I am aware that will likely reward me with nothing. What Claude says, what Claude dreams of... It is not entirely without merit. He is right in that this world has barriers that need to be torn down, and old wounds that need to be closed... But we cannot be overeager, or naive, in how we go about making that dream into a reality. Andrestia, Faerghus, Leicester... Duscur, Almyra, Dagda, Brigid... They all can coexist together. We all can learn from one another, work with one another, and better one another. But that must be a mutual agreement, and that is where my beliefs, and Claude's, part."

"I... I understand." Leonie nodded slowly, and she was heartened to hear such things from Dimitri, and even moreso to see that Raine believed in him wholeheartedly. That gentle, proud light shining in her eyes was adoration and warmth incarnate, and proof that the professor had truly decided that her student had outgrown her teachings. They were a wonderful pair, both on and off the battlefield, and Leonie truly believed that Faerghus would be in safe, caring hands when the end of all this came to an end. Yet, at the same time, she was sharply aware of the fact that she had overstepped her bounds, regardless of how honestly and sincerely Dimitri had answered her. He was, after all, the future king of Faerghus. Raine stood at his shoulder as his professor, his lover, perhaps even one day as his future queen, but she... She was still a commoner, an aspiring mercenary, and she turned her head a little as she began sheepishly, "Forgive me... I, er... I understand that it's not my place to be questioning how you intend to rule your lands. I'm a commoner, after all, and I'm not even one of your subjects, to boot."

"Nonsense. You are still my former classmate, and I am not yet king. It does not matter to me that you and I are of different stations. If anything, our differences in birth, in privilege, only mean that your opinions, concerns, and experiences have more substance than my own do." Dimitri immediately brushed off her words with a firm shake of his head, and his one eye narrowed with seriousness even as he almost felt Raine's smile broadening as she stood at his side. It made him slightly embarrassed, being so sharply aware that she was grinning at him despite everything, but he forced himself to focus on Leonie's surprised expression as he hastened to explain, "I am a prince, Leonie. There are many things I will never know, because I was born to nobility. It is true, I lived five years in exile as little more than a beast, and I learned to live as the most poor and tortured do... but that was only for five years, and I will return to the throne despite that experience. I do not know the hardships you knew, and lived with for all of your life... Your worldview is important to a future ruler. You could teach me much. And I've no doubt you have taught Claude much already, as well. Do not discount yourself."

Leonie flushed, uncomfortable with the compliment even though a small part of her exulted in being affirmed in being knowledgeable and experienced even as a common woman. She had lived too long under the thumb of tight-knuckled nobility, and she had little to no love of blue bloods. Claude had attracted her because he was the complete opposite of the types she had known and dealt with in her youth and village, and she had appreciated how he treated her, and everyone else, as people rather than nobles or commoners. His worldview of equality, of simplicity, had been incredibly appealing to her. His wanderlust, and his wish to see a united world even moreso. Yet... She could, and did admit that Dimitri had points of his own with equal appeal, and equal logic. "Thank you... It's... nice to hear that I'm... someone to be taken seriously, despite where I was born, or what I do. Truly, thank you for that."

"It's how we built the Blue Lions, Leonie. I followed after my father's teachings in my own. That everyone, regardless of station, birth, country... should all be equals on or off of the battlefield. It took some doing, because there are habits you can't break easily when they're ingrained in you from birth, but I like to think all of us see each other as friends and comrades before being knights, dukes, princes or princesses." Raine explained with an idle shrug, and a small, bittersweet smile flickered to her face at the mention of her father. It still made her ache somewhat, thinking of him, speaking of him, but she knew Leonie loved him, and she would not begrudge her for that even if it had been grating when they both had been younger and less wise. "One day... I'd like to see a world somewhat like that, too. But, I think what people forget is that such a world will take time, time and effort, to achieve it. And if that doesn't happen in my lifetime, that's all right. I'll have laid some groundwork for others to continue to build on."

"That's a surprisingly idealistic worldview, coming from you. You've changed a lot, since our days at the academy." Leonie couldn't help but remark, and she looked at Jeralt's only daughter with sharp, but still kindly examining eyes. She had never gotten along well with her mentor's children, though she knew that was more a fault of her own than theirs. She had been stubborn in her youth, believing herself their betters based on nothing but pride and arrogance, and she had been humbled greatly in her five years since their parting. Warin had proven himself her better a hundred times over, which she had realized and come to terms with when he had arrived in Derdriu to meet with Claude during his exile, and now Raine was proving to be a thousand times better than her with nothing but a simple conversation. She had overestimated herself, and underestimated them sorely, and she dearly wished she had been wiser when she was young. "I like to hope I've changed just as much... One day, do you think you'd cross blades with me again? I'd like to measure myself against you, even if I lose, to see how far I've come."

"Maybe one day, when things are more peaceful. At the moment, the idea of turning my blade on an ally, even in sparring, makes me feel ill." Raine answered apologetically, and her eyes flickered against their will back to the smoking ruins that they were still standing beside. Though the stench of death and fire and smoke had faded, or perhaps she had grown numb to it, she still felt a faint sense of nausea cramping in her stomach. She didn't want to handle a weapon, let alone level it at a familiar face, for at least a fortnight. There had been too much needless death today, and even if it made her look weak... She shuddered reflexively even as she forced a small, weak smile to her lips, "For now, we'll put it on a tab. You can collect once this is over. Deal?"

"Deal." Leonie nodded affirmatively, and she watched as Dimitri sidled closer to the older woman, noticing the change in her body language and reacting to it automatically. It made her withdraw respectfully, understanding she had spent enough time with them, and her own feet were urging her to turn back about and find Claude. She wouldn't be able to soothe him, nor talk much sense into him, but she wished to be with him all the same. She again offered the two before her a nod, turning slightly before waving her hand, "I'll take my leave for now. I think there are a lot of wounds that need licking right now, and I ought to attend to mine. I'll see you on the march back to the monastery."

Dimitri and Raine watched her go, following quickly after Claude and disappearing even more quickly, and they were silent for a long moment before they turned to see that Seteth had not moved from where he had been standing ever since the ending of the arguing earlier. He was watching them, his expression pensive and brow furrowed, and Raine turned her head a little to examine him carefully. There was something approaching gratitude in his eyes, but there was also thought and concern that weighed on him, and it made her both blunt, yet somewhat more measured as she addressed him, "Is there something else you decided to keep to your chest you want to disclose? If you've decided not to trust Claude with information, that's a choice you can make freely, but I hope you won't be making such a decision with myself and Dimitri. At least not about these matters."

"No... I've little else to truly say in fact about what happened here today. All I can offer is conjecture, which is not useful to you." Seteth answered with a slow, tired shake of his head, but eyes lingered on the devastation that stood at his feet all the same. There was pain lining his face, ancient and yet still somehow incredibly raw, as if he was reliving something over and over again that refused to allow the wound in his memory to heal over. He turned however to Raine, eyes still sharp despite the pain, and he spoke in a blunt, matter-of-fact tone as he questioned her, "However, there is a question I wish to ask of you... You so quickly discarded the idea that the creation of the Valley of Torment was not the doing of the Goddess. I am aware of your lack of belief in religion, especially when it concerns the Church of Seiros, and yet you were so prompt, so convinced, in your dismissal. Why was that, Professor?"

"I'll believe for the moment that your question is more ideological than pragmatic, so I'll play your game if you wish... The Goddess you speak of is a creature of compassion, patience, forgiveness and love, is she not? To callously rain destruction in a fit of pique over a handful of sinners hardly seems to line up with the tenants you teach of her." Raine answered with a shake of her head, and she felt a pulse of tightness in her chest as the memory of that smiling, impish little girl that had been her companion in dream and reality, had been closer to her than a sister flashed through her head. It didn't matter that the "goddess" she had known had been incomplete, or unaware of herself and her powers. The girl she had known, the Sothis she had grown to love, was not the kind to take to death so quickly, or so mercilessly. "I don't believe in your religion, but if the Goddess is to exist, then I choose to believe that what she was described to be is true to her character... A being who would choose first and foremost to preserve life, rather than destroy it. Is that not the Goddess you know?"

Seteth did not answer straight away, but instead watched her sharply as she stood unafraid and unashamed in her prompt, biting reply that hid far more passion than her placid expression would ever give away. Her seafoam-coloured eyes were calm, but deep within he saw the smouldering fire, and it made every single part of him ache. Did she know what she was questioning of him? Is that why she challenged him as confidently as he challenged her in return? He did not know, and he was well aware, painfully aware, that he possibly would never know. It was a regret, a deep, aching regret to be aware that whatever relationship he could have fostered with her had broken away long before he had come to his senses, but he had made a vow to be a quiet, stalwart guardian of her wishes if he could be nothing else now. She had earned that much, after everything that had transpired between them.

Yet, that likeness... That painfully bittersweet facsimile of things long gone, long mourned... That ached even more. And if the pain for him was so sharp, he could only begin to imagine what it was that Rhea had suffered when she had come to the same realization he had, five years prior. But he could not speak for her, and he had chosen not to. She would have much to answer for, when the chains of Enbarr were cast away, but that was, too, Raine's right to demand. He had been a fool five years ago. A follower, naive and blind and enabling, and he was now paying the price for it. And that gaze burnt him just as much as it had been a lifetime ago when he had been so young, and he found himself answering with a small, bitter smile, "No... That is not much like the Goddess I know, at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> And so, we're ramping up to where things are going to get super interesting (as well as super goddamn painful and annoying to write). As I know you guys have likely put together by now, this is indeed a strange amalgamation of the three routes, Azure Moon, Verdant Wind, and Silver Snow. However, the endgame is not going to play out like all three of these routes combined. The idea of slogging through four (FOUR!) separate boss fights and transcribing them into chapters is not something I can even conceive of doing with any amount of actual skill. I am not an action writer, and though I do feel like my skills are getting better every time I write, I still know where my skills lay, and I want to play to them as best as I possibly can. With this is mind, I'm going to be... mashing the routes together a little more awkwardly in order to make a less painful ending for me to write.
> 
> Now, mind you, I don't intend to cut anything out in order to make it easier on me. Anything I intend to do is going to be done in line with making a cohesive and coherent narrative, without expending myself and my mental and physical energy to do so. As fun as it can be in gameplay to be put through a gauntlet of boss battles, turning game chapters into written chapters is a whole other beast, and it's just not one that I am very good at, or confident in doing. So, with that in mind, I am changing up how the endgame will be proceeding, but hopefully in a manner that both makes sense, and doesn't make the ending feel "rushed" or "cheapened" by any means.
> 
> With all that said, I also am not rushing to finish this project. I want to write exactly what I want to write, and while I do have a very clear vision of how this fic will end, that's not coming quickly. I have a lot of things I want to address before, during, after, and in-between all of these things, and so the next few chapters are not going to be a series of fights that lead up to a booming climax. There's still a lot of meat left to the story despite the position I'm currently in, and I'm not in any hurry to race through it. I want to finish this in a way that leaves me, and hopefully my readers, satisfied with my ending.
> 
> Mind, I am going to say that despite things, I actually didn't set out to make Azure Moon: Cerulean Tears into a "fix it" fic, though it is kind of turning out that way. That really was more of an accident than anything, especially considering the fact that in taking Silver Snow and Verdant Wind into account, I had to incorporate characters and canon in different fashions in order to make things flow, as well as make sense. And considering Azure Moon is the route with both the least amount of lore, and the most amount of open-ending questions, having this fic go on without the involvement of Claude, and eventually Seteth and Rhea, really was never an option. Especially considering the personalities of Raine and Warin, which is what led to this route going off the rails in the first place.
> 
> Anywhosit, after my essay of an AN last time, I'm going to cut things short here. As always, thank you for reading so far, and I hope that you guys are all safe, healthy, and happy, and that you enjoyed my work. Please drop me a review should you feel the need, and have a good one until I see you again with my next update!
> 
> Mood: Intrigued.
> 
> Listening To: "Last Night, Good Night" - Miku Hatsune (Rockleetist Cover)
> 
> ~ Sky


	23. Sins in the Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: Conspiracy, Friendship, Romance. (T)
> 
> Characters: Raine, Lysithea, Linhardt.
> 
> Summary: After hearing of the so-called true enemy after the battle in Derdriu, Lysithea hadn't hesitated a moment to shed off the mask of pacifism to leap headlong back into the war. She had hidden herself away, pretending that the research she was helping Linhardt with when he had come calling on her all those years ago in her territory could take precedence... but no more. She knew it wasn't what he wanted, and she had apologized for it, but if those who had ruined her childhood, had taken away her hopes for a future, were truly one and the same with the enemy that now the Alliance and Kingdom were ready to combat... She had no right to sit on the sidelines any longer. Their fight was her fight, too, and she would see them end it even if it meant giving up her life in the process.

**Verdant Rain Moon**

**Garreg Mach (Knight's Hall)**

**Noontime**

"Professor? May we have a moment of your time?"

Raine glanced up from the book she had been reading at the unfamiliar voice calling for her, and she blinked twice when she saw that both Linhardt and Lysithea were standing respectfully at the entrance of the hall, watching her closely and with equally grave expressions. The shorter of the two mages was standing taller and straighter, proof that her look was not simply for show, but Linhardt's arm was masked behind her back, and Raine had a sneaking suspicion there was a guiding and reaffirming hand gently holding Lysithea's firm posture up. She quickly pulled herself up from the bench she had been laying on for her reading, a rare reprieve in the last few days, and marked her place with her bookmark before she forced herself up and to her feet.

This was an unusual visit even for her, and she tilted her head as she looked her two guests over closely. Claude had informed her already that the two of them had been absent from the fighting for the better part of the last five years, with Lysithea returning homeward to keep her family out of the war as best she possibly could despite the heavy pressure House Ordelia faced from those within the Empire. Linhardt had gone with her, and only when Derdriu itself had faced the full might of the Empire had the two of them returned from solitude to help hold the line until the Kingdom's reinforcements had appeared. She had held no judgement of them, knowing full well they had matters of import to attend to that was far more dire than the war, at least to them, and she would never call someone choosing to retreat from fighting a coward.

Still, when Lysithea had joined her voice to Lorenz' after the ending of the fighting that moon, claiming she would join with the rebellion, it had caught Raine by surprise. She had fully expected for both her and Linhardt to return to House Ordelia to continue their work, but Lysithea would hear nothing of it. She wanted to fight, wanted to bring the battle back to the Empire, and though she would not explain her reasons, Raine had known better than to question them. Linhardt, for his part, made it clear that wherever Lysithea went he would follow, even if it meant back to the battlefield, and Raine had directed him to the infirmary to ensure that at least he would be comfortable exercising his magic in more humane ways than offensive ones for the time-being, outside of the research that the two were clearly continuing on the grounds of Garreg Mach.

Now though, to be visited by the two in person... Raine gestured to the door behind them, and Linhardt closed it without a word before the two of them took seats at the table. Raine joined them quickly, eyes slightly narrowed with both curiosity and suspicion. She had heard whispers, but other than Professor Hanneman, no one had come close to discovering what the two mages were up to, and they were closely guarding their work. Only the former professor of the Golden Deer seemed welcome in their studies, and Dimitri had made it clear that they were not to be bothered on anyone's account. They had already given themselves over to the rebellion, and whatever they wished to do with their free time was not a concern of anyone else's. Raine had followed suit easily, not at all interested in prying into their personal affairs, though she had a sneaking suspicion that she already knew what it was they were doing, and why.

"Professor... I believe there are several things that you need to be made aware of. Until what happened to Fort Merceus, I admit that I was unsure of whether or not I could... trust you with the information that I have. No, forgive me, trust is not the word I want to use... Rather, I was unsure of whether my information would be of use to you." Lysithea spoke up first, her voice calm and steady, though her pale violet eyes were uncertain as they stared down at the table rather than at the woman she was addressing. It was a rare show of a shake in confidence, of that strong, unbreakable facade she always was wishing to project to her peers, but Raine didn't mind it as she continued to find her words, "But, after learning the truth behind Fort Merceus, and also the truth of those behind the Empire... I believe that keeping my knowledge to myself would hurt your efforts in the war. There is a reason why I returned to the battlefield after being made aware of what was truly happening outside of my parents' territory... I am not here for the sake of the rebellion. I am here to put an end to the supposed "dark robes" that you, yourself, are hunting, because I believe your enemy, and my enemy, are one and the same."

Raine narrowed her eyes, wondering at the cryptic words as well as the hesitant way Lysithea had begun her speech. She also wondered if this was in any way related to the secrets that she already had been made aware of, likely against the young woman's consent, and the thought made her shoulders heavy with guilt, and with exhaustion. She had never intentionally wished to pry in the lives of even her own students, and to be cast into the lives of those she had never taught had made her feel exceptionally filthy. It didn't matter that the topic of discussion that day hadn't been her, but another, but the secret had been spilled all the same, and the puzzle pieces had fallen easily into place afterwards. With that thought in mind, Raine raised a hand to gently stop any further speech, and she folded her hands on the table in front of her before she explained plainly, "Lysithea, forgive me for the interruption, but... I will be blunt with you. I believe some of this information you wish to share is information that I already know. I won't pretend otherwise, simply to save face. If you intend to be honest with me, I will show you that same courtesy, and show you my hand as it is now. Are you speaking of your second Crest?"

"You... You know?" Lysithea sputtered, clearly caught off guard as her eyes widened and her pallor suddenly grew white. She looked to Linhardt, who was clearly as surprised despite his usual ability to dull his expressions, and then back to Raine as the surprise quickly gave way to anger. She had told only a small handful of people of her secrets, and only one had found out through a different means. While he was giving her his aid now openly, or at least as openly as he could considering the grounds they all now were being forced to occupy, Lysithea could not help her knee-jerk reaction as she began heatedly, "Did Professor Hanneman-"

"No. Your professor did not tell me this. Seteth did." Raine quickly shook her head, breaking away the tirade she could well imagine would follow for the assumption of a betrayal of trust. This, however, didn't seem to be as reassuring as it had looked, as Lysithea's anger gave way to horror, and Raine had to scramble to continue on firmly before the situation could spiral even more quickly out of control, "It was not a discussion concerning you, but rather Edelgard, Lysithea. You are not the only one with a secondary Crest, and when this knowledge was released with my generals, you were raised as an example of this not being an isolated incident. Edelgard carries both the Crest of Seiros, and the Crest of Flames. At the time, such a thing was thought to be impossible. Professor Hanneman however had proved this not to be the case, when he was given a sample of Edelgard's blood to examine. He never once spoke of you. Seteth however did... I can only assume this is because Seteth was aware of Professor Hanneman's research with you and Linhardt."

"And yet he left Professor Hanneman alone...? Knowing full well that such research is heresy to the church?" Lysithea asked with narrowed eyes, and she looked to Linhardt again, only to see that the older mage was cupping his chin as he looked to Raine thoughtfully. His eyes were alight with curiosity and thought, his mind clearly spinning away in that way of his that was almost impossible to break through unless he was physically snapped out of it. Realizing she would get no help from him, she instead looked to Raine again, who was watching them both sympathetically, and that expression only hardened her spine as she ground out through gritted teeth, "Why did he say nothing? Was he intending to capture us all in the act, now that we are all here?"

"Professor Hanneman is aiding you in your research now, and that fact is well-known even if the object of your study is still a secret to those uninvolved. If Seteth wished to bring down charges of heresy, I doubt he would have waited this long to do it. If he was aware of all of this when you were merely a student, then I am more inclined to believe he allowed it to happen, and is continuing to allow it to happen, because of the importance of your research." Raine answered diplomatically, though a small part of her admitted that she couldn't say so with complete certainty unless Seteth was there to speak for himself. Still, she did know the man well enough to muse of his thought-processes if nothing else, and this allowed her to relax just a little as she asked somewhat pointedly, "The object of your research... Isn't it to remove your Crest, or at the very least, find a way to live with it in a manner that won't cause your body harm? Even as little learned as I am in Crestology, the idea of two Crests existing in one person cannot mean good for them. Even one Crest can cause ill-fortune and ill health, despite the "gifts" it can give to an inheritor. A second one must have repercussions I cannot even imagine."

"No, you can't possibly begin to..." Lysithea agreed darkly, but she felt her heart beginning to calm within her chest at the realization that Raine was completely right. At least, here and now, the work she, Linhardt, and her professor were doing had to look relatively harmless in comparison to Edelgard's work. It would make sense that Seteth would not consider it harmful to the ideology of the church, and that he would even permit it to continue, if he knew enough of the details concerning what was occurring. And considering how far his reach extended into the monastery, it was very likely that he did know everything that her professor was doing, and was likely helping to keep it a secret so that others, who would not be so broad-minded, would not know of it. Still, she admitted somewhat tiredly, shaking her head as she glanced upwards thoughtfully, "I cannot believe that Seteth knew all of this time, and... did nothing to interfere. Professor Hanneman had even gone so far to suggest that if his research was known, that he could be executed for aiding me."

"These are different times... and different circumstances. But, I think we've leapt ahead of ourselves here for a moment." Raine allowed, and she settled herself down a little more comfortably in her chair as she looked back and forth between the two before focussing back on Lysithea. The younger woman seemed a little more relaxed, though she still clearly was ill at ease, and Raine hastened to give her both comfort and an opportunity to take charge of the conversation as she began, "Tell me everything you wish for me to know. I'm sorry for starting this off on the wrong foot, but I didn't wish to take advantage of what I already knew and keep that a secret from you. It's only fair to show you my hand before you show me your own, especially when you've joined your cause to ours."

"That's kind of you, Professor... and I appreciate it, even if you did give me a bit of a start." Lysithea allowed after a long moment, but her lips quirked upwards at the unexpected display of kindness. She had not quite understood why Lorenz and Marianne both spoke so passionately of the rebellion's cause at first, and though she had realized that Raine had clearly done something to win their loyalty, she couldn't quite imagine what it was. Now, it was painfully simple and clear. Raine's honesty and kindness had won them over, and after so long of being used, hiding and acting as pawns on the board of someone who did not care for their well-being... It was easy to understand why they would support her so passionately. She almost envied them, for getting a chance to know this woman that she had never really learned much about due to her choice to isolate herself during both her school days and the years of war. "Very well... I will begin then. But be aware that it likely is not a story you will wish to hear, and it is long... Do you know of the Insurrection of the Seven?"

"The attempted coup in the Empire... Yes, I am aware, though admittedly I do not know of the more intricate details."

"Then I shall tell you that House Ordelia was also involved... Aid was given to House Hrym upon request, and because of that, we were also implicated in the coup... The impact of that is still far-reaching, even now. Edelgard claims that her war is for the improvement of the world, yet... I know better." Lysithea explained with a slow, tired shake of her head, and she reached into her pocket, revealing a yellowed envelope that she set down on the tabletop between her and Raine. Her gaze was sharp, if somewhat sad, and she explained as she saw the realization dawning in Raine's eyes at the sign of the Emperor's seal, "I, too, received a missive from Edelgard, shortly after she left Garreg Mach. At first, I didn't understand. Edelgard and I had never spoken, and we most certainly were not friends... but when I read her missive, I came to realize what she wanted. She knew of my past, because she knew of House Ordelia's involvement in the insurrection. She was reaching out to me, because she believed herself partially responsible for my condition. Of course, with all that has happened now, I realize how trite such a gesture was. She had no qualms abusing Ferdinand, despite the fact that he was never involved with his father's hand in the insurrection, or even in the governing in Hrym... and it led to his father's death. Even then, she was picking and choosing who to make her allies, and who to punish for the hurts she suffered. I would not be a party to such a thing. Especially with the knowledge that she was aware of who I was, what my house had suffered, and only when she could make use of me did she dare to say admit it aloud."

Raine was silent, eyes narrowed as she recalled that sombre, guilt-ridden look that had haunted Ferdinand's face not long after the Alliance's troops had been absorbed into the rebellion's forces. He had only told her that his father had passed away in the war, not willing to give her any other details, and she had not dared to push for more. He had told her before that while he had no love for his father as a politician that he still did care for him as a man, and his torn loyalties between his home, his position, and his love had been the worst of his sufferings. He had not known what had befallen his father after his escape from the Empire's grasp, and she imagined that learning of his death had shaken him more deeply than anything that had yet happened to him. Now, though, with the knowledge Lysithea was offering, she could understand his guilt ran far more deeply than she had guessed, and it made her wince with sympathy for the poor young noble.

"House Ordelia suffered mightily at the hands of the Empire after the insurrection was quelled... and the Alliance's leadership at the time looked the other way, to avoid confrontation. I believe they thought we brought upon ourselves... If they had known the truth, maybe they would have stood up for us. I cannot say, but I will tell you honestly that I care nothing for the petty power squabbles that are currently occurring now." Lysithea continued in that same calm, flat voice but her eyes were quietly simmering with a wrath that was as deadly as the spells she could fling into the enemy's ranks and leave not a single man standing if and when she chose to show off her proficiency with magic. Her smile was dark, sardonic, and she shook her head as she mused bitterly, "And if Claude is to leave the Alliance, then I will happily see the back of him. For a man who wishes to dig deep into each and every secret that is not his to know, and drag it out into the light, he seemed quite happy to remain ignorant of the sins of the country he was leading... Yes, I blame both the Empire and the Alliance for what happened to my family. But more than that... I blame the ones who killed my siblings, my cousins, and all of the other children of age that those dark-robes experimented on in order to pave the way for Edelgard's use of a second Crest."

"Many high-ranking officials in my parents' house were killed following the ending of the insurrection. The Empire sent replacements, men in dark robes, who ruled as they would. And we were powerless to stop them." Lysithea continued her explanation in that same even tone, as if she was merely reciting something from a book she had once read and not an experience she had lived through, but her expression betrayed the practised calm in her voice. It was haggard and worn, ancient despite her youth in testament to the tragedy she had experienced and witnessed, and she looked down at her folded hands as she continued on without pause, "They took children, as many as they could gather, and performed experiments upon them with their magic. As you can imagine, they were attempting to find a way to implant a Crest, either one to someone without, or two to someone who had already inherited one through birth... I am the sole survivor of these experiments. The side-effects of course, I imagine were not to their liking, and as quickly as they had swept through House Ordelia, they abandoned it, and my family was left to pick up the pieces that remained."

Raine said nothing, her eyes narrowing and hands curling slowly, but tightly into fists in her lap with each passing moment that Lysithea spoke. Outrage and disgust made her both burn and cool, but she did not permit it to rise to her face just yet. Lysithea still clearly had more to say, and to show her expression would be as well as interrupting, and she did not want to make the process of divulging these ugly secrets any more painful than it obviously was. Lysithea was clearly practised at reciting the truth, she likely had been forced to relive in many a time for the research she was now undertaking, and explain it even moreso in effort to find even one tiny, insignificant detail of her horrific time in the hopes that it may be what she needed to unlock the curse that had been forced upon her.

"My hair was not always this colour... and my growth has been severely stunted, physically speaking. But more than that, my lifespan has been reduced dramatically... I will die very young due to this process. This, of course, I decided to take in stride... If I was to die young, then so be it, but at least I would do what I could in my short lifetime to give comfort to my mourning parents. That was what I set my mind to, before... before entering into Garreg Mach." Lysithea's voice wavered for the first time, and she bit her lower lip, eyes narrowing even further as she struggled visibly to continue. Linhardt moved for the first time since they had sat, once again reaching out in silence to press his hand into the small of her back to keep her posture from slipping. His hand was warm, surprisingly strong despite how slim and frail his body truly was, and she appreciated it more than she could put into words as he gave her what she needed without prompting, or care for such trite things as permission.

After all, he was far too singular to ever really care about anything but what his focus currently was, and Lysithea had been both astounded, and extremely flattered, to learn that his interest in her had never been purely academic. When he had arrived in House Ordelia's territory, almost four years ago, he had told her outright of his decision to find a cure for her condition, and regardless of whether she wished for it or not, he was going to pursue his studies to the ends of the earth if he had to. He had escaped the conflict in the Empire, and with Caspar's aid, had made his way to her, and by her side he had stayed ever since, silently supporting, constantly studying, and always within arm's reach when it became too much for her to bear.

She was sure it as only because of him that she could say the things she was saying now to the professor's ears, and she was also sure that his influence had inspired her to stand tall for herself and throw herself back into the fray when she had realized what a chance had been laid at her feet. Vengeance, while always stirring deep in her gut, had never been the thing that had drove her. She mourned her family, mourned her own loss, but she had set it all aside in pursuit of giving her family peace and freedom from the weight of their titles and territory. House Ordelia would end with her, one way or another, and when it did, she had convinced herself that at least her parents could finally live calm and quiet lives for the rest of their days.

Yet now...? To reach out, to strike back, things she had merely only dreamt of because of how futile it had seemed to discover the truth of it all on her own... It was within her reach now. She had stumbled upon it without meaning to, as she had never once intended on stepping into the quagmire of war between the three territories if she could actively avoid it, but this was went far beyond their battle now. Her pale eyes glinted, and her expression was firm and fierce as she met Raine's gaze and told her firmly, "Those who ruined my family are those who Edelgard has been drawing her strength from. In her letter, she alluded to the idea that she, too, was a victim of their machinations, such as I was. I believe her, as our similarities seem too close to dismiss, but... I cannot forgive her for what she is now doing. She suffered, her family suffered, just as mine did... But now she looks the other way, as they continue their evil unchecked, underneath the flag of the Empire? She reasoned it was the only way, to make use of their power until she could turn it against them, but I will not be as naive. They are monsters. And anyone who would take their bloody hands in pursuit of even further strength to accomplish their goals... is also a monster. So I will fight. Them, and her... To end this once and for all, and find justice for my family. For myself."

"... She admitted to being a subject of these experiments in her letter?"

"Not in so many words, no. I think, even for her, admitting to it outright even to me was something she was unable to do." Lysithea answered with a slow shake of her head, but despite all of her anger... She admitted that this, at least, she could understand, and would not fault the other woman for. How could she? It had taken long, too long, for her to be able to stomach the pain and the guilt and the sheer mind-numbing horror before she could put it to words. And only practise, long, long years of practise, had allowed her to speak of it as she did now. Edelgard was a woman of secrets, of solitude and pride, and even if she intended to reach out her hand, her other would always be clasped to her chest, a shield and sword at the ready in case she had need of it at the worst. "But I am not wrong, Professor. I would stake my very life on it. I have studied long and hard, and there is no other method in the entirety of this continent to implant a second Crest into a human being. Edelgard and I are the same, both victims of these dark-robed mages that have been pulling the strings behind so many of this continent's woes. Yet, she thinks to use them, so she can end them. At least, that was what she wrote. That... was what she offered me, when she requested I join her in the Empire."

"I see... It must have been tempting." Raine spoke without judgement, though her stomach twisted cruelly and made her body both tense and cold. Part of her wished she could be astounded by what she was hearing, and yet the larger part of her was numb to it all. She and her brother had long since known that Edelgard was a puppet, and likely also a victim of Thales and his men, but she couldn't quite reconcile the idea of standing shoulder to shoulder with anyone who had caused so much tragedy and horror, even if it meant positioning herself so that she could slide a dagger into their backs when they finally turned it. But perhaps that was what separated her from Edelgard, her inability to proceed in any other manner but blindly forwards, and discarding subterfuge because that road simply was too long and dark to take. "May I ask what it is in the end that solidified your choice in rejecting her?"

"There were many reasons, but... I suppose, in the end, it was pride. I couldn't fathom sitting at the side of those who had tortured my family, even if it meant getting an opportunity one day to end them once and for all. And though Edelgard phrased it as a promise... What reason did I have to believe she was sincere?" Lysithea answered after taking a moment to think and organize her thoughts properly, and she was careful with her words as she felt Raine's eyes on her like a steel suit of armour. Heavy, suffocating... but she well understood the older woman's need to have this question answered. It was her right, after all, after she had been approached like this. And she was wise, kind, but wise, to the cruel realities of the world. "Edelgard has supposedly been biding her time, amassing power, and yet... Truthfully, I have seen nothing to prove to me that she truly is capable of destroying them. All she could offer me in her missive was a promise... and a promise was not enough for me to turn my back on my family, and join hands with the Empire."

"And yet now you'd put stock in our strength, in our promise, that we can destroy this threat. Why is my offer so much more appealing?"

"Because you have the power to fulfil it. It is truly that simple, Professor. And moreover... Even if you were to fail, at least you would fail in open defiance, not pretending to be a pawn. I can respect that about you." Lysithea's answer came firmly, honestly, at Raine's pointed question. She understood well why she would ask such a thing, and why she would be wary... and she was completely frank with her thoughts, which was also something Lysithea respected of her. She softened her features, allowing a small, wry smile to grace her lips as she continued, "You are unlike anyone I have ever known, and I mean that in the most respectful way possible. Claude has always claimed himself an outsider, but we're all aware by now that such a thing is only true at the surface level. The true outsiders have always been you, and your brother. You care nothing for nobility, for politics, or even for ideology. You have tethered yourself to the Kingdom, to their war, and so you fight... and you will continue to fight to the last, regardless of whether you will win, or lose. You have done so from the outset, even when the odds were stacked horribly against you... If I am to throw my lot in with anyone, for good or ill, I would prefer to be at your side in this war at the end of things. At least then, if I am to die in battle, I can say I died fighting to the last, in defiance of the path that was put before me, rather than cowering in the shadows, waiting for a chance that may never come."

"I'm hardly an outsider... I've been drawn in as deep into this conflict as you have, even if our reasons for fighting are different." Raine disagreed with a small shake of her head, but her lips curved upwards all the same at the unexpected compliment. She hadn't thought she would ever hear such words of deep respect from a student outside of her own house, and yet there was no lie whatsoever in Lysithea's eyes. She meant everything she said, and she was deeply flattered by her belief. Still, there was also a small part of her that twinged with guilt, and she admitted with another slow shake, "This is all quite personal to me, too."

"You speak of Captain Jeralt, and your ties to Lady Rhea, of course. This is understandable. I, too, am quite curious to know why there are so many things entwining you so deeply with this conflict." Linhardt spoke up for the first time, drawing both women's eyes to him in surprise, but he didn't seem at all bothered by their stares. He had lowered his hand back down to the table, and his expression was placid despite the sharp look to his gaze when he looked to Raine and continued almost errantly despite his stare, "I am afraid I must disagree with Lysithea when she uses the word "outsider" to speak of you... That simply does not fit with all that is currently known of you. For one reason or another, this powder keg did not go off until you were involved with Garreg Mach. Of course, we are already aware that Edelgard had been planning this coup long before you even knew of the monastery, and yet it wasn't until your appearance that everything began. One might call that coincidence. I do not believe in such things."

Raine was silent, taking in Linhardt's appraising eyes and wondering even as part of her bristled instinctively. It was same damned curiosity that she had seen in Claude's gaze, but despite herself, she did not feel as prodded as she had when Claude had been demanding of her secrets. Perhaps it was because of the clinical language Linhardt used, or the fact that despite his curiosity being clear and open, there was nothing else stirring under the surface. He simply was aware of the facts and wished to know more for no other reason than to finish the puzzle that had been laid out before him, and Raine was aware already that if he was denied the pieces he needed, he would not be overly bothered. He would simply move on to become preoccupied with other mysteries, and that made her relax, if only slightly, as she questioned him, "Then what is it you believe?"

"That you, like Lysithea, have been used. For what purpose, I cannot say, but it is clear you were never willing to be as you are now. You, your brother, and Captain Jeralt were all brought to Garreg Mach against your wishes... and you were forced to remain, also against your wishes. The Church of Seiros' hold is strong, but it was not the Church of Seiros that held you. It was Lady Rhea herself who did." Linhardt remarked, and he tilted his head, once more touching fingers to his chin as he looked Raine over carefully. Though he had not been her student, he couldn't help but be fascinated by her changes, and by her ever-evolving circumstances. "These things, your being at the monastery, Lady Rhea's interest in your family, your abilities... They are all interconnected. You are fighting a war of your own, not just one against Edelgard's Empire, and her ill-found comrades."

"I suppose that's true enough. I want Thales' dead more sorely than Edelgard at this point, but that is a personal grudge... but there is anger to be had for Rhea, too, for her involvement in all of this. Still, that's not a matter for discussion. Her relationship with my family is something I would prefer to keep to myself." Raine spoke firmly, but not unkindly as Linhardt nodded in understanding, completely at ease and unbothered by her iron refusal to permit him access to further knowledge. Only Lysithea looked bothered, eyes narrowing with concern, and Raine was reminded of how sharply, and with such heated concern, Lysithea had reacted when she had finally been released from sleep to return to her day-to-day life after the changes that had taken place in the Sealed Forest. It brought a small, sad smile to her face, and she remarked with surprising gentleness as she looked to Lysithea with new, appreciative eyes, "So you were scared for me, then, five years ago after what happened... Forgive me. I didn't realize why you were so concerned, and put it from my mind in the chaos. It means a great deal that you would worry over me so."

"Well, I... I couldn't very turn my eyes away, if something had happened to you as it had happened to me. It is true you changed, and perhaps that change came without your consent, but... You seem well, even all these years later. I want to believe that change isn't always a horrible thing, and that we can make the best out of our circumstances. You are an example to aspire to, in that." Lysithea replied clumsily, and she felt heat rushing into her cheeks despite herself at Raine's gentle words. It felt strange. Some part of her wanted to bristle, instinctively disliking that feeling of being pitied or looked down upon, but the honesty was in Raine's face. There was grief for her, sympathy, but nothing remotely approaching pity. Raine had suffered on her own journey, had her own losses, and that experience coloured her reaction... Which made Lysithea feel guilty she had held back for so long from a potential ally.

Coughing to clear her throat, Lysithea ran a hand awkwardly through her hair as she stiffened her posture and tried her best to return to a look of professionalism. She could almost hear Linhardt's silent amusement as he sat next to her quietly, as always waiting to follow her lead, and she both thanked him for it as well as wished to slam a heavy tome over his head for making her so sharply aware of him. She swallowed both desires down hard, once again looking to Raine before asking calmly, clearly, "Professor... I am aware that after the capture of Enbarr, you wish to continue on, in search of this so-called Thales, who leads the dark-robes... If this is true, then I wish to join you, there, too. I have little to offer, beyond my magic, as my house has no soldiers or resources to send... but would you accept my going?"

"I would, if you would be doing it of your own will." Raine answered with a nod, and a fleeting glance to Linhardt, who was still watching Lysithea with calm, caring eyes proved she did not need to ask what his opinion was. He would follow her as he had followed her back to her home, and she didn't doubt he would quit now. Even if it meant wading back into battle, one more time. She appreciated their willingness, their loyalty to one another, but it made her frank as she folded her hands together, "However... I can't promise you that this will end quickly... Taking Enbarr, while being a matter of course, will still not be easy. We will lose men, and resources. Those who have supported us from the beginning are nearing the end of their rope. And many others are simply too spent to continue on. I can't hold anyone to press farther than they are capable. This likely means our hunt will be long, and our forces small. Those who can't, or won't, join us will set about to rebuilding. Rooting out Thales may cost us even more than taking down Edelgard will, and may be twice as long of a struggle. Are you truly willing to tie yourself to that?"

Lysithea paused, and glanced sidelong out of the corner of her eye to gauge Linhardt's reaction. He was still watching her, expression neutral and eyes calm, and she did not need to ask him to know what he intended to do. Even with Raine's cautioning, he had already promised that he would follow her and her only. No one else would command him against his will ever again, be it the Emperor, his own father, or the leader of the rebellion. Still... She smiled sadly, looking down to her hands, small and frail in comparison to the callused and strong ones of the former mercenary before her as she admitted, "I am willing, but... It's very likely I may not survive the venture simply because my energies will fail me. If you would still have me, despite that, then I wish to join you. I wish to see this through, to the absolute end."

"If that's your will, I won't deny you... Everyone who's approached me thus far, promising me their weapon in this crusade, has had similar conviction. If I didn't refuse any of them, I have no right to refuse you." Raine finally spoke after a long moment of silence, and she leaned back in her chair as she thought of her students, who, to a man, had all sworn to continue this war as far as she chose to take it. None of them would quit so long as she continued to fight, and even if it meant leaving behind their homelands, leaving behind the start of peaceful lives... They wished to stay beside her, and aid her, for as long as she had need of them. And even those who were not her students, who had territories to defend, lands to rule, pieces to begin to pick up, had also made such vows. She couldn't in good faith turn anyone away, whether it be for pragmatism on their behalf, or guilt on her own. "I suppose the only thing is I am surprised how many have chosen to fight, at the end... but I shouldn't be. Everyone is a victim. Everyone has lost something, or someone, to this war. It's only natural to want to finish it out to the very end."

"All the students here have joined you, then? I've expected as much."

"Quite the opposite. Most of the Golden Deer intend to see out the end of the rebellion, but then they will return home to begin rebuilding efforts. The Alliance suffered mightily, and their scars still run deep. Lorenz will have a lot on his plate, once the war is over." Raine answered with a shake of her head, and she smiled despite herself at the thought of the poor young noble who had realized that his dream, and his obligations, had effectively shackled him from giving her the aid he so dearly believed he owed her. "From my knowledge, Hilda and Ignatz intend to return to House Goneril to aid Holst in rebuilding. Lorenz will be bound for Derdriu, alongside Marianne, to begin leadership of the Alliance... Claude and Leonie intend to remain, but Claude is no longer tied to the Alliance, so counting him seems unfair. The only two Golden Deer to put their weapons to mine are you and Raphael. Though Raphael can't really be called a Golden Deer, all technicalities aside."

"Truly? Well, I suppose it makes it sense, but... I can't say that I am not disappointed to learn that they will not stand by you. Yet, they have all been fighting wars of their own thus far, and as I have been told, the Alliance is on their last legs in terms of military strength as it is..." Lysithea mused, and she thought sourly to that damned roundtable conference she had not attended, but had heard many stories of. Hilda was still righteously incensed by Claude's heavy handed attempts at ending both the Alliance and his leadership in one fell swoop, and his actions had been a hammer blow to the entangled armies and nobles. Lorenz had his work cut out for him, repairing all of the bridges Claude had so self-righteously burnt, and even with her former words weighing on her, she admitted quietly, "I do hope Lorenz will have the strength and support to turn the Alliance in a better direction..."

"He earned the vote, though from what I know it was split due to the actions of his father... but his loyalty to his homeland is true. He wants to see this war through, and if he weren't bound to tend to his new role, he would follow me. He has said as much. But his cause is as dire as my own, and he must attend to it if the Alliance is to trust him to lead them into a new future." Raine shrugged, and she was slightly amused to see that even though Lysithea had spoken so negatively of politics that some part of her still worried for her old classmates. It made her gentle, though curious, and she leaned forward as she suggested carefully, "I know that this is not of my business, but... Considering the change of leadership, I would think heavily of telling Lorenz what befell your house, Lysithea. He may not be able to do much for your parents as he is right now, but if he was aware of what his own family allowed to happen... He would do all he could to make amends, regardless of how late it is."

Lysithea tilted her head to the side, both somewhat caught off guard and yet immensely curious by the idea. She had never considered telling anyone of what had transpired to her home, and her mistrust of the bloody hands of nobles had made her less than willing to cooperate. And yet... She admitted Raine had a point. Lorenz, as clumsy and foolish as he looked, was at least honourable. He had defied his father openly for his ideals of nobility and honour, and he had saved both his men and Marianne from further bloodshed in the Empire's name. He would not stand under the boot of a tyrant, and he would work to change the ways the Alliance functioned if he could manage it. Hadn't he already passionately said so, when the time for voting had come within the ranks of the remaining faithful Alliance lords had gathered?

She spoke slowly now, thinking deeply as she wondered at the opportunities it would open up, if she were to fail in her end goals, and leave her family with nothing to speak of but another child to bury. She had nothing of note to leave behind as a corpse, and though she had already decided the end of her house would come with her, there was good logic to what Raine was saying, and she admitted it as she mused, "I wish only for my family to be taken care of, once this all is ended. I have no desire to rule House Ordelia. I wish to see my title end with me, but not if it means making my parents suffer. If he would be amicable to making that a reality, then perhaps I could speak to him... but I am not yet ready to trust my family with a newcomer to the table. I do not mistrust Lorenz, and please understand this... I just... I am here because here and now, there is something I can do. To think much farther is beyond me."

"That is more than understandable. You've done enough coming to me to speak of this." Raine answered with a small, comforting smile, and she was heartened to see Lysithea return it after only a moment of hesitation. Still, there was that quiet, nagging feeling that she could not completely ignore, and though she knew it was beyond her bounds... She tightened her hands in her lap, expression turning quiet, pensive, before she spoke again, "Lysithea... If there is anything that I can do to help your efforts, your research... Do not be afraid to ask it. I know this is all far beyond me, but if I can do anything to ease the burden, or speed along the process... I hope that you will tell me. Even if it's something as insignificant as keeping others from snooping. I want to help."

Lysithea didn't answer immediately, instead watching Raine's expression closely to see the empathy and the earnestness in her eyes as she spoke. She meant every word, and not an ounce of it came from pity. It was genuine kindness, kindness mixed with that helpless urge to interfere in situations she was not involved in, and the younger woman had to wonder if being dragged into the problems of others had become so routine to her that now she was seeking it out actively herself. Still, she couldn't very well shake away a helping hand, especially one with such influence and power at her fingertips, and she accepted with a low chuckle, "I cannot think of anything we have need of at the moment, but if something arises... I will come looking for you. Thank you for your offer."

Raine nodded, glad to hear that her offer was not spurned, and even more happy to see Lysithea looking so at ease. The younger of the two began to stand, clearly ready to make her leave, but she paused as she saw Linhardt remaining firmly seated. The mage's eyes were glued to Raine, expression painfully neutral and calm, and both women paused in understanding that he was not quite done yet. Raine shifted slightly in her seat, eyes narrowing somewhat as she asked carefully, "Is there something else, Linhardt?"

"I would ask a question of you." Linhardt spoke bluntly, not knowing any other way to speak as he folded his own hands calmly on the table and met Raine's stare. He could feel the tension rising in her, as if she was anticipating his probing, but he did not mind. He had never fully understood her, nor her ability to commit herself so passionately to the war effort. Her growing empathy, and her budding emotions had been fascinating for him as a student, but now he was weary of war. She seemed capable of carrying a mask in her pocket for any occasion, hiding her humanity when the time came for her to draw her blade, but he knew it was only a facade. She had too much kindness in her now, had grown too caring, and it made him question her now without preamble, "This knowledge that you now have... Does it change your opinion on the war?"

Raine watched as Lysithea closed her eyes, momentarily wincing in pain as she slouched in on herself, and the expression was more than enough to tell her she had not put him up to such questioning. It also was a warning, a warning of torture, of horrible deeds, and nightmares and fear, but she knew such things intimately, too. Linhardt, for his credit, did not know her as he knew Lysithea, and it was fair of him to question her without being aware of who and what she was. Still, she didn't intend to meet his bluntness with kindness, and she asked him pointedly in return, clarifying his words with an edge to her voice, "You mean to ask if I sympathize with Edelgard, now?"

"If that is how you wish to phrase it... Yes." Linhardt answered her promptly and clearly, and he remained firmly seated, his fingers interlaced as his eyes refused to flicker away from her own. He did not look the least bothered despite the palpable tension that had risen inside of the room, and Raine was not sure whether she hated or admired him for it. His single-minded pursuit of knowledge, his razor sharp focus on whatever it was that caught his interest did not allow for him to feel fear or doubt when he was faced with an obstacle. And he held firm and steady, speaking clearly and calmly as he reiterated his question so there was no room for misinterpretation, "Do you sympathize with Edelgard, or her cause, now that you are aware of what may be driving her?"

"No, I don't." Raine felt the answer escape her lips before there could be a moment to pause to think about it, but as she spoke, she was well aware that it was the truth. Part of her ached in sympathetic pain, but there was no surprise to have drawn it to the surface. A puppet was a thing to be created, not born, and all logic pointed to the fact that in her own way, under her own secret circumstances, Edelgard must have suffered, and suffered greatly, in order to become the woman she was. However, Raine had already come to terms with it, and discarded it. Her expression was cold, her eyes fierce as she answered bluntly, "I have sympathy for those who've suffered, and if your theories are correct, then I will agree that she's among many who have had their lives irrevocably twisted by these monsters... but it doesn't excuse the actions she's taken thus far. Nor does it change our current course. Her suffering matters little, compared to all of the horror she's wrought in response to it. The actions taken against her do not give her the right to continue the cycle."

"And yet we go to war due to the actions the Empire has taken against the Kingdom and Alliance. Is that not also continuing the cycle?"

Raine bit the inside of her cheek and fought a smile at the reply, and she wondered if he was brave, or just that thirsty for knowledge. She hadn't been tested like this since her schooling days, and she admitted it was rather refreshing to be met with such opposition. Yet, she knew deep down why he was asking such questions. At his heart, Linhardt was a pacifist. War, blood, suffering... It all terrified him. He wanted simplicity, a life where he could be unbothered with his research and loved ones, and he did not understand those who felt differently. It was unfair to judge him as a soldier, because he was not one. He hadn't the heart or the stomach, but he was here all the same, because Lysithea had come.

Shaking her head slowly, Raine relaxed her posture back in her seat. The young Imperial mage was an intelligent man, and he was only pointing out the flaws in her argument because they were there to be pointed out. He wasn't on Edelgard's side, and he never would be. He was simply taking the chance to dissect her mind and her beliefs because he was there, and that much she would allow him. It wasn't as if his curiosity was driven by arrogance, or would be followed by judgement. He only wished to know, and he would remain where he was regardless of what she said. That knowledge softened her anger, and so she agreed with him openly as she replied, "It is. I won't deny that logic. And ending this war won't stop the cycle, either. Edelgard has her sympathizers, and those who believe fervently in her ideals. Taking her from the throne won't end that. There will be conflict even when the war ends, and who knows for how long it will rage? No one can answer that... All we can do is respond as it comes, and hope to shape a better world, one step at a time. It will be long. It will be full of missteps, accidents, and setbacks. But it's still a path worth treading."

"And that is why the two of you will never cease fighting. Edelgard cannot see a path laid out that long. Or, if she can, she will not settle for it. She needs a quick end. Something she can do with her own hands, while she still has the use of them. You are not overly bothered with the idea of change continuing on without you. Your ideals, your mindsets, will always have you two at opposite ends." Linhardt mused with a small, curt nod, and he titled his head as he reflected on the letter he had tossed aside, along with Caspar, all those years ago. To say he had been disinterested in her plea from the start would have been an understatement. He hadn't cared for her writing any more than he cared for the rich parchment she had wrote her words upon. It was all meaningless drabble to him... but he was only one man. One man unbothered and untethered to the tenants so many others lived their lives by. "Your war with Edelgard will end in Enbarr, but the struggle will not. I will continue my research regardless, so I shall stay here. You will have me as an ally, for as long as this fight will remain... I will not part from Lysithea. Where she goes, so shall I."

Lysithea flushed sharply, and she cleared her throat loudly before reaching over to jerk the taller man up from his seat without preamble. He followed her guidance without complaint, merely looking at her curiously, but she pushed him in the direction of the door unceremoniously. She could feel Raine's stare on her back as keen as a blade, and she knew that the professor was smiling, and the thought only made her ears burn hotter. She still didn't understand how he could so flatly and calmly say such things, and in front of other people, to boot, and she stumbled over her words as she continued to push her partner to the door, "All right, I believe we have taken up more than enough of the professor's time! I apologize for the intrusion, Professor, and we shall speak again later! Now out, Linhardt! Out, out, out!"

Raine struggled to not snort with amusement as the two mages made their exit, with Linhardt protesting the rough treatment with bemusement, and Lysithea hotly scolding him with every step. Wise and put-together as she was, it seemed she still was quite unused to Linhardt's clear shows of affection and commitment, but Raine admittedly couldn't blame her. Linhardt spoke so simply and factually that it would bring anyone embarrassment, and Lysithea floundered far too much for the older Imperial mage to not take notice, and likely take advantage when it suited him.

Still, as the sounds of the two faded away, Raine pushed herself tiredly to her feet as her mind continued to spin itself in tireless circles. It was all confirmation, of course, of what her worst suspicions had told her, but she admitted she didn't think her answer to Linhardt's question was wrong. Nowhere in her could she find a shred of sympathy for the Flame Emperor she stood to face in Enbarr, and she wondered if that made her cold, or simply numb. Lysithea hadn't gone into detail, but she didn't have to. Raine's imagination, combined with Lysithea's pained expression, could fill in the blanks easily enough... and Raine let out a tired sigh as she moved for the exit herself and began to walk for the training grounds.

'Families upon families torn to shreds in the name of power... Mine, hers, Dimitri's, Lysithea's... and yet what have any of us gained? What have _they_ gained? A second Crest for the majority of a lifespan? That much power clearly wasn't worth the drawbacks, if they quit their experimentations in Ordelia... Or perhaps they did deem it worthwhile, at least for Edelgard?' Each thought drummed deep in her head, drilling down into her brain with each of her footsteps, and she wondered at all she had been told, as well as her own lack of a reaction to it all. She had buried the Flame Emperor long ago, and she had nothing left to give for her, even if some strange part of her told her it was wrong. Too much time had passed. Too many sins had been committed. Both of them were too far gone for such details to matter any longer... Their paths were set in stone.

'Without knowing the precise timing, all I have left to me is guesswork... and even then, it's not as if it changes anything. It's only confirmation of what we suspected. Puppets are made, not born... Am I to feel sympathy? Had she just came out and spoke all those years ago, perhaps I would have then. Now... Now it just feels too late.' Raine's hand reached for the hilt of her blade, fingertips running carefully across the cracked and worn hilt of the ancient sword that had more and more come to feel like another limb rather than just a weapon. Her thoughts drifted to Sothis, as they always did when she handled the Relic, and another sigh left her lips as she murmured aloud, "I wish more than ever I had your guidance... You told me to carve out my own path, regardless of anything else. Would you be disappointed by my lack of empathy now, or would you encourage me to see this through to the end...? It's not as if there's really any choice now. She left me without one the moment she picked up her blade alongside them... The moment she donned the mask in the name of her utopia."

The sound of lancework echoed to her ears from inside of the arena, and Raine was heartened to know Warin was exactly where she expected him to be. She shouldered the doors open, eyes drifting carefully to find her brother alone, running through his drills as casually as ever. He paused at the sound of her approach, shoulders tensing momentarily before he turned his head, and his navy eyes softened at the sight of her before he flipped his lance casually back onto his shoulder. He greeted her with little more than a nod, appraising her expression with wary, careful eyes, and she nudged the doors shut behind her with her boot as she glanced about to see if they were well and truly alone.

He likely was waiting for Shamir, as he didn't look overly tired, and though she didn't want to interrupt what she knew was his version of intimate time with her... She needed him for the moment, and she didn't know who else to turn to immediately with what she had been told. Dimitri would need time and delicate wording that she wasn't yet capable of making, but her brother had never been the type to want or need such things. His view on the war, on Edelgard, was well in line with her own, and he would understand her frustrations, and her suspicions, much better than anyone else would. She spoke without preamble, folding her arms about her waist as she satisfied herself with the knowledge that it was just them for now, and she could speak openly and without hesitation, "I need to speak to you. I've just had a rather... enlightening conversation with Lysithea and Linhardt that I think bears repeating. I want to hear your perspective on it before I share the details with anyone else."

"That sounds foreboding." Warin remarked with a raised eyebrow, but he rolled his shoulders back and placed his lance idly by the wall before reaching for his pack. He shifted about for a moment before finding his flask, and he took a deep draught of water before looking back to his sister carefully. Her eyes were flinty, her body language tight and coiled, and he could already well imagine where this conversation was to take him. He had been the one, after all, to speak to Hanneman of Edelgard, and it hadn't been difficult for him to realize that his connections with the Golden Deer had left him far more open to the idea of a second Crest than any in his circle would otherwise be. After all, if the Father of Crestology was unsurprised by the existence of the Crest of Flames existing side by side with the Crest of Seiros in one body... It only meant there had to already be a set precedent.

His sister's wariness was well-earned, and he could see that she was clearly torn inwardly with whatever she had learned and what it now meant. He already was aware it likely would do nothing to him, that his thoughts, his choices, would not waver an ounce, but he was not his sister. She cared for Dimitri, even if she disagreed heavily with his wishes to give sympathy, to try and understand, the enemy that would not allow for them to ever truly understand her. Her wishes to cede to him, to give him closure he sorely needed was at war with her pragmatism, and if she was turning to him rather than to her lover now with this new information, it only proved that she was not yet ready to share it with him. It would impact his view of Edelgard, likely deepen the prince's sympathy for her, and the thought made him smile grimly.

Sympathy did not exist in his heart. He had buried it alongside his father, and there it would lay until the bodies of all of those involved in his death were buried along with him... Edelgard included. He cared nothing for whatever she had suffered, and he would continue to refuse to care no matter what he was presented with. He did not need to know her, understand her, or feel for her. Such things would only cloud his judgement, would slow his lance, and that would bring undue risk to those that would be fighting alongside him. She was an obstacle to be removed, a burning flame to be put out, before she could choke and smother the rest of the world in her manic desire for change and control.

He leaned himself against a nearby pillar, crossing his arms over his chest as he met his sister's stare head-on and without flinching. His expression was neutral, though he knew his eyes were glinting with cold, detached amusement. So much left to unravel, to reveal to the world, and yet he felt nothing as secret after secret came to the surface. None of them interested him. None of them were secrets that he yearned to know. He was still biding his time, waiting for the knowledge that would impact him rather than the war he was fighting, and though he knew it selfish... He didn't mind the moniker. This was not his war, even if it was his sister's, and his voice was calm and flat as he urged her, "All right... Let's talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Lysithea is an interesting character, and her ties to Edelgard, especially depending on route and recruitment, are things that aren't really brought up all that often in a bubble. Usually, her stance as an object of support or friendship to Edelgard is all that is spoken about when she's brought up, and not what her reaction would be if she remained in opposition to the Empire throughout the campaign, as she did in Verdant Wind. (Which allowed for a revelation or two to be made to Claude, but it's never really touched on much again afterwards, and that's a pity unto itself.) Of course, her sheer usability as a unit means that she's almost always recruited regardless of the route, (and I am guilty of this myself!), but here I wanted to demonstrate what her character could have been like had she both not been recruited to Edelgard's side, and had been able to "sit out" the conflict as she wished she could in order to tend to her family, who she is incredibly and passionately devoted to above all else.
> 
> Still, here, I wanted to explore the idea that though her and Edelgard have many similarities, they also have quite a few differences that would (and in this narrative, did) put them at odds. Lysithea shows nothing but hatred and outrage for the enemies responsible for destroying her family in canon, and while she is happy for the chance to put an end to them if she is a member of the Black Eagles, in any other route, her focus is not on vengeance, but rather in ensuring her parents can live a peaceful life when hers comes to its early end. This, of course, can be attributed to ignorance of the "real enemy" that she only gets to see if she is recruited in CF, or is lightly touched upon in VW, but I have always been rather curious about what her reaction would be as an outsider to Edelgard's conflict, and being made aware of the conspiracy in a roundabout manner rather than a direct one.
> 
> Of course, this really is just an experiment on characterization, so I can understand if this particular take on Lysithea isn't really a popular one. However, her pride and her care for her family are core tenants of her personality and her future goals, and having them put at odds against her very-real, but put-aside want for vengeance was a concept that I just had to explore. She is a real interesting foil to Edelgard in many ways, but unfortunately she never gets the chance to shine much in the game's narrative... Which is what fanfiction is for!
> 
> Anyway, writing's been hard as always, but I am slogging through one piece at a time. There is just so much content to cover, but I am enjoying what I am doing, so long as I'm not pushing it overly much. I've got a lot more ahead of me, and am eager to get there. So, as always, thanks for reading thus far, and please drop me a review should you feel the need. I'll see you again soon!
> 
> Mood: Amused.
> 
> Listening To: "Digital Love" - Daft Punk
> 
> ~ Sky


	24. Impenetrable Veil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Ideology, Romance, War. (M)
> 
> Characters: Raine, Dimitri.
> 
> Summary: It was foolish of him to want, to believe, and yet Dimitri could not fathom himself doing anything less than extending his hand, even if it meant being bitten in response. It was likely, no, it was an eventuality, that he would find himself wounded when he did so. There was no reasoning with someone so far gone, with someone so deeply entrenched in the path they had taken, and yet... He stood as he was, dagger in his hands, and wondering ceaselessly. Before they would clash again, and before one of them fell to the other, he wanted more than anything to understand what it had been that drove Edelgard to choose this path rather than any other to walk. Was it selfishness? He supposed so. But was that so wrong of him? He didn't know.

**Verdant Rain Moon**

**Garreg Mach Pond**

**Late Night**

The night was mostly silent as Dimitri sat on the edge of the wooden docks, watching the still blackness of the pond stretched out before him without truly looking at it. His hands worked ceaselessly, turning the sheathed dagger over and over in his palms even though he had long ago memorized its shape. He didn't need to look down at it to know where the sheath was scuffed, where the hilt of the blade met the shaft of metal and leather encasing, and even through the leather he knew where the metal had been nicked, had been smoothed, and how the edge had been sharpened. It had been well taken care of, despite its age, and that fact was both a balm and a wound to him. It was a symbol of parting, of an oath, and yet now it weighed more than the heaviest suits of armour and made his strong hands tremble simply from holding it.

He did not wish to handle it, and yet he had never been able to cast it away. Even in the depths of his worst madness, during his five years living as a beast and a monster, he had never been able to throw it away. Time and time again he had thought of it, of leaving it buried in the throat of an Imperial soldier in some twisted hope that she would find it and understand its meaning, but when the time had come, he never could go through with it. Instead he had returned it to its sheath, sliding it back into his belt, unused and unsullied because even in the depths of his depravity, he could not bear to make it a weapon of his own hands. It had never been for him, after all, and if he killed with it, he would be making it his. He would be claiming ownership of it and its oath and his old, old promise, and he could not do such a thing.

Had it been resentment that stayed his hand? Resentment that she had forced it back into his hands, and was making him decide what to do with it? Or had it been hatred, mad and wild and insane hatred that wanted her to see it when her eyes were dulling over, so she would remember, so she would _know_ as the life flickered out of her that he had never forgotten? Even now, mostly clear of the fog, Dimitri had no answer. All he knew was the dagger he had given to her, so long ago, was still in his possession, and he dearly wished he could toss it away even if that option was simply something he could not feasibly do.

Edelgard had been so helpless then, when they had first met. A child prisoner, held at the whims of cruel, callous adults and their petty power squabbles that had ruined countless lives, and robbed her of her family and heritage. And he, he had been just a boy, naive and misunderstanding, wanting a friend and wishing she was not suffering, and knowing nothing but clumsy, formal overtures of his homeland that he hoped would bridge the gap and make her see she wasn't truly alone. He did not know if it did, he had been far too afraid to ask when he had seen that weapon on her waist and she had looked at him without an ounce of familiarity in her eye so many years later, and so he had kept silent. If she did not remember, who was he to bring it up again? If she had chosen to forget, to seal away her memories of that single year in their childhoods... He had to respect her wishes, didn't he?

A quiet, wary sigh escaped his lips, and Dimitri looked down to the sheathed blade resting in his open palms as his mind once again drifted to thoughts that had been ceaselessly clouding his mind. If he had spoken when they had met again, if he had forced his way through, if he had done something, said something... Perhaps he would not be here today. Perhaps everything would have gone differently, they would have taken a joint path rather than staring each other down at the end of it, and no blood would have had to be spilled between the two of them. They wouldn't have had to be enemies. Was that such a selfish wish to imagine? To hope for?

Reality was cruel, like an icy wind slapping against bare skin, a blade sinking in deep between the ribs, and Dimitri was fully aware of what kind of idiocy he was entertaining. It was not as if he hadn't been reminded, over and over again, that the foe he was to confront was not one he could reason with. That time had long since come and gone, and now there was nothing but enmity. He may have changed, forcibly and cruelly, but he had been pulled back from the shadows and grime and the blood, and... His shoulders slumped, and he had to once again take in a painful, shuddering breath. No. The hands that had pulled him loose, that had guided him back to humanity, had struggled for so long to do so that in the end, he had almost lost them in his pursuit of his goals... He was lucky that his saviour had lived through the ordeal of bringing him back from the brink. She was not like him, and he was not like _her_. He couldn't give Edelgard what she needed... Not then, and not now.

'Had she chosen to lead their house, would things have gone differently? Would she have been saved, as I was? Would she have seen the errors of her ways, and chosen a better path?' The questions continued, a roar in his head and blocking out all other thoughts, and reminding him again of why he had left the comfort of bed to find silence and stillness instead. He hadn't been able to sleep, not with the questions running endlessly through his head, and he couldn't in good faith lay still and silent while his partner slept on, oblivious to him and lost in what he hoped were peaceful, contented dreams. So instead he had pulled himself away, grateful that she slept so heavily, and slunk out into the night in a desperate, futile bid to find somewhere, anywhere, to think until he could come to a conclusion, any sort of conclusion, that would finally end his wondering.

It was indeed futile. He had spent too long now, sitting at the pond's edge and ruminating in circles until he felt he would simply go mad from the effort. There were no answers to all of the hypothetical questions and scenarios he posed to himself, and worse still, he did not want to imagine them in great detail. If he was to do so, it meant discarding everything he had known and experienced, and he clutched so desperately to those memories, to that past, that to sacrifice it, even to an imaginary life, was something he couldn't do. He was only here, only sane and breathing and finally approaching humanity again, because of one arbitrary choice that had been made long ago, and without his input. If that choice had changed, if he had been the one discarded, the one not picked...

"I would have died a beast to the end, never knowing that there was another life I could have lived." The words escaped him in a ragged, mournful mutter, and Dimitri closed his eye tightly as his teeth grit in an instinctive sneer of self-disgust. Even now, he was so incredibly selfish. So single-minded. He didn't want to fathom a world without her, even if it meant that he could dream of one where he and Edelgard had found understanding instead. He needed _her_ too much to even begin to try. Everything fell apart in a world where she did not exist with him, beside him, and even if it meant peace and understanding and the sparing of countless lives, he wanted _this_ world more than any other he could conjure in a dream.

It tore at his innards, breaking his heart and filling his throat with bile, and he wondered if anything had truly changed. He was still so obsessive... Only his target had changed. He still wasn't any less of a beast than he had been the moment he had killed his countrymen with his own hands, and fled his homeland for a chance, no matter how slim, to save his own skin. Now, instead of craving vengeance, all he craved was her, her above all else, and only she kept the beast at bay no matter how much she thought he had changed. It made him wince, made him ache, and again he was painfully reminded that he did not deserve her, nor anything else that had come to him since he had crawled his way through the muck and the blood and the corpses to where he now stood. He was a monster, and would be a monster until the end of his days. He was only pretending to wear a human mask, and going through the motions of having humanity.

Reality remained bitter and cold and poisonous. He stood where he was now because of the world he had lived in, and she stood opposite of him because of the life she had lived. There would never be reconciliation. Even if he reached out his hand, it would be a hand extended too late, and she would spurn him because her pride would demand it. Was there a point in trying? He knew there wasn't, and worse still, he was sharply aware that everyone else knew this, as well. No one had made a single attempt to plead for mercy or appeasement or negotiation, because they all knew that it would end poorly. They all knew this had to end with war, this had to end with death, and having come so far now... There was no reason why that would change. Edelgard would ensure it... and he knew that, just as he knew how much the snow could both freeze and burn simultaneously on bare skin.

More quiet and stillness, and yet all Dimitri felt was a deeply burning sense of unease and restlessness. His mind continued to spin, useless and getting him nowhere, but he did not know in which way he was meant to move. Again, he felt lost, and untethered. The path ahead was clear enough, there was no running away from what was to come in the following moon, but... Still, he did not wish for it. There was no escaping the future path he had laid out for himself, from the path she had carved out in response, and they would clash hard and angrily at the ends no matter what occurred in the weeks of preparation to come.

Footsteps on the stone behind him made him twitch, but despite himself... Dimitri could not raise his head. He knew that footfall, surprisingly quiet like a predator always stalking prey, and now she was working doubly in order to not disturb him overly much. She had come looking, as he knew she would eventually if she woke to an empty bed, and the guilt made his throat tight with that knowledge. He could only sit where he was, dagger still laying in his palms, and wondering if she knew, if she would scold him, or if she would turn around and leave him to his misery and ghosts out of well-earned impatience.

A few moments passed, then there was a low exhale before the footsteps drew closer. Dimitri glanced up from the corner of his eye, not daring to lift his head, and he watched carefully, warily, as she came about on his good side. She was wearing her bedclothes, light, sleek shorts and a thinly strapped shirt, and she had pulled her mercenary's cloak over herself for some semblance of coverage against the night. She said nothing as she sat down next to him, and for the life of him, he didn't know what he could possibly say to her, either. It proved to be unnecessary, as she arranged herself comfortably at his side, and kept her silence before she reached over to settle her hand gently, purposefully, over his closest forearm.

Dimitri closed his eye at her touch, wondering at how something so simple could cause him such pain while simultaneously offering him peace. Her fingertips brushed lovingly against his wrist, caressing his cool, bare skin and offering him nothing but comfort and support in lieu of speech. It proved she did indeed know, or had at the very least guessed, and there wasn't a hint of judgement in her touch as they sat together at the pond's edge. Yet, that exact kindness made him ache and ache deeply, and he didn't know how best to respond to it, or if there was even a way to do so.

Raine offered him nothing but her touch, proving she was willing to wait for him to fire the opening salvo, and Dimitri both loved and hated her for it. It would have been so much easier if she had come to him accusing him of being selfish or stupid, or even naive, but she gave him nothing of the sorts. He could tell, though, that there was some part of her that had to feel such things of him. How often, how sharply, had she spoken of what was to come in his future? In _their_ future? She had already put Edelgard into her grave and was long looking past the battle to come. For her, it was that plain and that simple... and she would not let his wishes, his hopes, his foolishness, blind her to the facts.

She was still a mercenary. She and her brother both saw the world for what it was, and though they both disagreed when it came to idealism and their views on humanity, they both still were realists at heart. And realism demanded they see that their enemy would never be moved by any other way but force, and they were prepared, long prepared, to meet Edelgard as she wished to be met. The clash of weaponry was the only lullaby they knew, and they would accept it without flinching or second thought. He envied them for their simplicity, and knew himself a fool for being unable to do as they did.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Dimitri settled the dagger onto his lap and let out a long, ragged breath that he had been holding in for far too long. Raine did not stir, nor did she pull her hand back, but for the life of him he could neither look up, nor reach for her in answer. Instead he kept his eyes on the dagger, looking down at it and feeling its weight doubling, tripling, despite its trifling size. How did such a small thing carry so much? He wasn't sure, but he supposed it wasn't his place to know those things. Instead, he could only speak, slow, painfully, and warily as Raine sat silent and unmoving beside him, "I'd... beg a favour of you... though I know full well that it is... something I should not ask of you. I know where it is you stand. You've been unafraid of making your views clear. Yet... I must ask this of you, all the same."

"Go ahead and ask, then."

"I wish to beg a parley of Edelgard, before the storming of the capital. Enbarr will be heavily fortified... and with the loss of Fort Merceus, we will have no choice but to assemble camp close by in order for our troops to be able to take to battle fresh and able. But, if there is to be a chance, no matter how slim, to avoid this fight... I wish to take it." The words spilled out despite his better judgement, despite his shame, and he winced away instinctively from her touch and her closeness as he spoke. It felt so wrong, pushing himself and his desires onto her when he knew exactly how it was she felt and what exactly she foresaw coming. She hadn't been wrong yet, and she knew just as well as he did who and what Edelgard was. "It is likely she'll spurn an offer, even more likely that she will continue to fight to the bitter end, but... I need to make an attempt to speak to her. To hear her reasons, of her world... so I can understand where it was we parted ways before this comes to a close."

"She likely won't indulge you... However, if she does, it won't end pleasantly. You know her motives already." Raine pointed out bluntly, but her voice wasn't entirely unkind. She withdrew, folding her hands in her lap, and she, too, turned her gaze away from him. She instead looked out across the water, focussing on the small, barely noticeable ripples that peeked through the surface every so often as her chest tightened and became cold and tense. She kept her body from tightening in on itself, forcing her posture to remain lax and unconcerned, but it was an effort to do so as she continued on, "Hearing it from her own mouth I suppose will be one thing, but it's still a very long shot you'll be aiming for... Still. If it's your wish, I won't stop you. I may command the men, but only at your behest. This is still your war, and you are still the future king. Make the calls as you see fit. I won't stand in your way."

"But you will not approve." Dimitri noted with a bitter smile, and though Raine did not answer, he knew she didn't need to. She was attempting to be professional, to be pragmatic and distant, but he knew her better than that. The mask of the Ashen Demon was simply that now; a mask. She had grown too much in touch with her emotions, with her humanity, and she could not longer wholly hide herself from him. He had expected her disapproval, he knew he earned it, but it amused him in a bittersweet way that she was trying so hard to speak to him without allowing it to shine through. No one else would have earned such mercy, and he didn't believe he had yet, either. "Be blunt, as you would with anyone else. Don't spare me. I want to hear what you truly think."

"You know already what I think. As you said, I haven't been shy in expressing my opinions." Raine dismissed him with a flick of her hand, though her lips remained thinly pressed together all the same. Her eyes were cool though they did not once glance his way, and her voice was clipped and short. She knew she was frowning, knew that her distaste was showing through, but she couldn't quite help it. She had expected this, had been waiting for it, but it didn't mean she had to enjoy it now that the time had finally come. "What I told Claude was the truth, as ugly as it had to be for you to hear it. I've already buried her, and moved on. Killing her is merely a formality. There is no negotiation to be had with her. There is no chance of peace. She wants bloodshed, and bloodshed she will have. That is the ending of this war with the Flame Emperor. If you want to try to stem the flow, then do so... That is your right as the future king. That's all I have to say on it."

"My right as the future king... Is that why you won't tell me it's foolish? Because I am to be king?" Dimitri questioned, and he watched as Raine's eyes flickered, hardening and cooling simultaneously into a glare that almost made his spine stiffen in reminder of how deadly she truly was when her temper flared. It was a rare sight, her true anger, and even Claude had only managed to break the surface of it. She saved her rage in a way he could not quite understand, holding it quiet and tranquil close to her chest, and only in the smallest bursts did it ever escape her hold in rare, small shows of cold fury. Whatever she was holding it for, whoever she was saving it for, he did not want to know, and he admitted honestly he felt pity for the poor fool who would be on the receiving end of it when the day came for her to choose to let it all loose. Still, if it was to be him tonight, because of his decisions and wants... Dimitri steeled himself for it, and pressed further when she did not answer, "You've never had trouble letting loose your tongue against nobles before. Why are you doing it now?"

"Because your reasons are beyond your title, and I am attempting to respect it, even if I disagree with the mindset behind them." Raine's reply came sharply, and the hands that had been laying in her lap clenched down into fists despite her better judgement. She had woken in a sour mood, knowing exactly why he was gone and where he likely had fled to, and though she had tried to hold her tongue, he was needling at her all the same. Almost as if he wanted her to give him a lashing, and despite all desire to give into his masochistic wishes because of her irritation... She held herself back, trying to reign in her temper as best she could as she continued flatly, "I understand your reasoning. I think there's a part of me that even feels sympathy for you because of them. But that's as far as I can go. I've tried going farther. I don't have it in me to do so. I'm not like you when it comes to kindness. I never have been. My heart is for my family... For innocents. Edelgard is neither, no matter what it is she suffered in her youth."

"Kindness... It isn't kindness... At least, I don't think it is." Dimitri disagreed with a slow shake of his head, and he frowned to himself as he wondered at her words. Was reaching out to her a kindness? It didn't feel as it was. Kindness was empathy, was altruism, and this felt far more self-serving. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and he shook his head again as he mused, more to himself really than to her, "I know full well she is beyond reason. I also know she will never surrender. It is who she is. Yet, I am compelled to at least give an offer... To give her a chance at escape. If it had been me... When it _was_ me... There were no such chances. If I am to prove myself, should I not do anything... everything... within my power to end this war with the least amount of bloodshed possible? Even knowing that path to be futile? Even if it simply going through the motions, simply acting out a role... Shouldn't it still be done?"

"I can't answer that. You're asking the wrong person." Raine replied with a slow, painful unclenching of her fists, and she felt her body aching with the pent up tension in her muscles. She pushed herself fluidly to her feet, unable to bear remaining seated and appearing calm, and the maelstrom of emotions tangling its way through her chest would not permit for it. She folded her arms over her chest, closing herself off all the further as she turned herself slightly away from him when she continued, "This is all beyond me. I'm a soldier, not a scholar, or a philosopher... These overtures mean nothing to me. Doubly so because I know where this all is going to end. As I said before, do what you want, because I won't stand in your way. That's all I can give you. If you want more, you'll need to find someone else to confide in. Someone with a more understanding soul than my own."

Dimitri looked up at her, taking in her tight body language, the discomfort and anger and dislike on her face, and wondered. She seemed almost defensive in trying not to say anything too harsh or sharp, which made little sense to him, considering how blunt she was with anyone other than him. He remained where he had been seated, not wishing to stand and knowing it would look too combative if he tried, and so he merely looked up, tilting his head slightly to the side before he questioned her bluntly, "Do you think, had things been different, had you chosen to lead the Black Eagles... That things would have gone for the better? Would your influence have done for her what it did for me?"

"Don't you dare suggest that woman is anything at all like you. She was far beyond anyone's grasp long before I met her, met you, in Remire." Raine heard herself snarling the words well before she thought them, and though part of her flinched away from herself as she did so, another was exultant in allowing the venom to flow. The mere thought angered her beyond belief, and she scowled down at him and that surprised look he was giving her in answer as she snapped, "Think. She's been at this for far too long. Ensnared as she may have been, that doesn't make her blameless for continuing on when she had allies aplenty to turn to. It was pride and arrogance that stopped her from reaching out. My being her professor would not have changed that an ounce. I would have been nothing but a tool for her to use. Her and Claude both. I couldn't have changed either of them no matter what I would have done. This is the path I chose, and I don't regret it, and I refuse to imagine a different one."

"I don't wish to imagine a different one either... but that's just selfishness. Had you led any other house but ours... I would have never had a chance to know you." Dimitri admitted with a low breath, and he palmed the dagger in his lap before slowly, tiredly, reaching to slide it back into the pocket of his cloak. He ambled slowly to his feet, his muscles aching from how long he had been sitting without movement, and he turned to look at her, still standing proud and defiant and angry beside him... It made his heart ache, and impulsively he reached for her, but he caught himself and lowered his arm before his hand could touch her before sighing, "Forgive me... I know this is just... idle and useless speculation. There's really no question of what is to come, but I don't believe I'll find peace unless I do this. I will go through with the offer, because I feel it right to do... but when the time comes to fight, I will fight. I can promise you that with certainty."

"You speak as if I ever doubted you'd give it your all..." Raine let out a breath of her own, unwilling to hold onto her annoyance when he looked so tired and tortured. She could read him as easily as she could a book, and she was well aware of what it was that had kept him up for so long. He wished to prove himself rehabilitated, to have moved past his hate and anger and need for vengeance, but he also was at war with his own wishes to proceed with the war, and behave with mercy. If he wanted to prove himself different than her, it meant he had to act differently, even if it would result in nothing but harm. She, at least, could understand it even if she didn't know why he was so convinced it had to be that way. "You aren't like her, Dimitri. You've seen the depths of hell, and you came out stronger for it. More understanding. Kinder. It may have taken you long to get back to how you were, but you're here, as yourself, better than as you were. Believe in that, if nothing else."

Dimitri watched her without a word for a moment, feeling her words piercing in deep and soothing some of that hurt, some of that worry, that his own mental musings couldn't even begin to touch. Her belief in him was true and earnest, and though he doubted he deserved an ounce of it, he couldn't help but love her all the more fiercely for it. She gave him permission to hope, to believe that redemption wasn't truly that far out of his reach, and he couldn't find the words, or actions, to let her know of the depths of his gratitude. But that was not a problem for him, as he was happy with the idea of spending the remainder of his living days trying to find ways to do so, and he finally allowed himself to reach out, brushing his fingers along the back of her hand before he promised her quietly, "If that is what you believe... then I can follow well enough in your footsteps. Bit by bit, if you'll be patient with me."

"I can do my best to wait for you." Raine allowed with a small smile betraying her despite herself, and she shifted her hand, spreading her fingers to interlace them with his own in a smooth, natural movement. He held on tightly, enveloping her much smaller hand easily in his, and that strong, callused warmth gave her calm and peace that she had much sorely needed after waking up to a cold and empty bed. There was warmth and life again in his face, though his cerulean eye remained tinged with pain that she knew she couldn't heal on her own. It softened her still further, and she reached for him with her free hand, stroking his cheek carefully before she said softly, firmly, "If this parley is truly what you want... What you believe you _need_... Then I will support you through it should it come to pass. I'll stand at your shoulder, as I always have. I can't promise good behaviour, but I can promise you to be there. You and I will always walk together."

Dimitri smiled slightly despite himself, and spurred by her gentle gesture, he reached to wind his arm about her waist to pull her close to him. She came willingly enough, leaning against his chest, and he curled both of his arms snugly around her to hold her even tighter. She felt warm, warm and comfortable and familiar, and he wanted to hold her until the sun stopped rising and the world grew completely still. He allowed himself a moment to nuzzle the top of her head, relishing in the scent of her hair and her svelte curves pressing against the harder planes of his body, before he finally muttered against the shell of her ear, "We've spoken enough I think... You need your rest, and I do, also... Shall we retire?"

"All right." Raine agreed quietly, and she allowed for him to turn her about, guiding her by the hand back in the direction of her quarters, which they had been sharing so often now that it was more theirs than her own after the past few moons. She was glad for the chance to hide her face from him as they began their walk back through the dark and away from the dimly lit pond, as her stomach remained clenched with discomfort despite things. It was good to see him relaxed again, to hear him speaking with surety, but... She looked down at her feet, holding her tongue despite the comforting strength of his hand as they walked together. He was in a better state of mind now, having freed himself somewhat with speech and reassurance, but for herself, she knew she wasn't at all feeling the same.

She felt ill at ease, as she had when she had first woken to an empty bed and the sinking realization in her stomach that Dimitri had abandoned the comfort of her quarters to slink into the darkness to battle with his thoughts. She didn't quite blame him for it, as she knew it was his way to want solitude rather than burden her with his problems, but it hadn't made her feel any better. If anything, it only made her more discomforted and awkward, though she was well aware it was rather childish of her. The feelings though, the tension and the cold and the restlessness all refused to be denied no matter how much she tried to chastise herself for it.

Rather, those feelings all grew louder with every step they took closer to her quarters, and she realized with a sinking sensation in her stomach that she wasn't as prepared as she had assumed she was when she had left her bed to give chase to him. She had been irritated at first, then had allowed worry and care to take over, and she had grown frustrated with him again, but that was settled for the moment. He was back firmly in the present, even if he still was in obvious pain. That was his right, and she would not deny him that, but it didn't mean that just because she had been reassured he was once again thinking forward and not backwards that she was well, too.

She felt cold, despite the warmth of his hand. She had felt cold since the moment she'd woken to his absence, and realized what had taken him away from her. It was illogical, it was petty, but she couldn't help the emotions even if she heavily disliked them, as well as herself for feeling it. It made her want to pull away, to withdraw somewhere safe, quiet, and solitary if only until her wounds had been sufficiently licked, and the very idea made her feel all the more pathetic. Her pride had taken a beating, though she hadn't quite realized the true extent of it until that moment, and she abruptly no longer wanted his company.

Her body halted in its tracks at the foot of the small staircase that led up into her room, and gently, but firmly, Raine pulled her hand away from Dimitri's as she turned awkwardly on her heel to look at her closed door while simultaneously giving him her back. He let her go at once, always respectful of her desires even if he didn't understand them, and she winced inwardly as she sensed his confusion at her actions. It had to look ridiculous, and felt even moreso, but she allowed herself to speak, even if her voice was far more directed to the ground when she explained quietly, "I... I think it might be wiser if... if you sleep in your dorm tonight."

Dimitri frowned as he watched her body language closely, taking in the slump of her shoulders and the way her head tilted down so she could squarely look at her feet rather than at the entrance to her room. Despite her earlier agreement, he had sensed something was not quite right, but he hadn't been sure if it was his place to address it or not. Now, she was requesting his leave, and though his first and largest instinctive desire was to give way to her... He hesitated all the same. Something felt amiss, and she had given him no reason for dismissing him. She did not need to give one, of course, as her quarters were her own and she was not in any way obliged to share her bed with him if she did not wish to, and yet... He spoke quietly, cautiously as she awkwardly folded her arms about herself, while still firmly keeping her back to his gaze, "If I've offended you in any way tonight, I am truly sorry for it... I will leave, if you wish for it, but... Could I ask what it is I did to make you wish me gone?"

"It's not a matter of offense... I just..." Raine stumbled over her words, hating herself for the ugly mixture of emotions that were choking at her throat and making her entire mouth taste of bile. She was no inexperienced, innocent maiden, nor was she a stumbling little schoolgirl, but she felt awkward and embarrassed and irritated all at once, and she wasn't entirely sure how much of it was directed at him, or at herself. She loved him for his simplicity, his earnestness, but perhaps that was why she suddenly wanted to be very much rid of him. Having to explain it, to put those pathetic feelings into words... She shook her head, voice low and eyes downcast, "I'd rather be alone to lick my wounds right now, is all. I'm aware it's idiotic, and even childish, but... I'm not used to these things, and I'd rather not be seen while trying to come to terms with it."

That only served to confuse him further, and Dimitri hesitated as he wondered how it was best to answer such a thing. It was completely nonsensical, as well as contradictory, and not at all like he was used to her usual behaviour. She had clearly been hurt but was trying to downplay it, and clearly he had done something to make her feel so ill at ease. If he had done something, she would normally have told him so straight away. She had promised as much when they had first reconciled, and she had yet to allow him even one moment of idiocy that could have sent him spiralling all the way back down from where she had first found him. His brow furrowed, and he resisted the urge to reach out to touch her shoulder, but he spoke as calmly and clearly as he could despite his confusion and concern, "You say it isn't a matter of offense, and yet you want to lick your wounds...? I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I'm a woman as much as I'm a mercenary, Dimitri." The words left her lips before she could bite them back, and a sharp heat lifted into her cheeks and her ears as the embarrassment came to the forefront in an uncontrollable display. She glanced over her shoulder helplessly, taking in the confused and startled look on his face, and though she knew he was genuinely unaware of her injured pride, it did her no favours. Her right hand curled tightly at her side, and her left tugged both awkwardly and angrily at her hair as she explained heatedly for him, "Waking up to an empty bed, realizing you've left me in the middle of the night, and knowing that when I find you, your head is going to be filled with thoughts of someone other than me? It stung. It still stings. It's pathetic and childish and illogical, and believe me, I know that, but I still don't like the idea that another woman has such a hold on you. Even if it's Edelgard."

Dimitri mused that he couldn't have been more shocked if she had reeled back to hit him, and for a moment, all he could do was stare blankly at her in response. Some part of him understood, at least on a very base, instinctual level. How many times had he spotted her with Sylvain, sharing some sort of joke, and watching with a sudden, inexplicable plume of jealous rage when his friend put a hand on her shoulder as they smiled and laughed together? Or seen her sparring heatedly with Felix, her lips pulled back into a fearsome, adrenaline-fuelled grin of someone thoroughly engrossed in a good battle? Both men he knew and trusted deeply, both men he knew to be intimately involved with another, but in the heat of the moment, he wanted them nowhere near her, and wanted her only to look, to smile, to laugh with _him_?

He knew he was the possessive and jealous sort. He had become sharply aware of it early on in his boyhood. She was _his_ professor. His teacher, his guiding light, and he wanted her warmth, her kindness, all for himself. Now, as a man, he wanted her all the more sharply, and indulging in her was both the biggest pleasure, and the greatest selfishness. No one knew her as a lover but him, and he wanted to keep her for the rest of his days. He had no true claim on her, he would not make one until he could give her something beyond his scarred and miserable self, but it did not make him any less wanting and wilful. He had thought it to be a problem only he had to deal with, another part of the beast he had been living with for so long, but to hear her say outright that she struggled with similar feelings caught him quite off guard.

It didn't help that her chosen target was someone they both knew full well was not a threat to her in any way, shape or form. Only once had she ever teased him of having a case of "puppy love" for his step-sister, and when he had informed her of their true relationship, all such japes had ended immediately. She had even apologized for her assumption and her rudeness, and he had offered her a smile and forgiven her readily. After all, hadn't Sylvain made similar claims when he knew so little? It was no fault of theirs for assuming his feeling of kinship was more than that. And considering how closely guarded their relationship had to be, it was only natural that assumptions would be made. Now, however...? Now, he had to fight to keep his voice steady and not incredulous when he attempted to clarify, "Forgive me, but... You're... jealous of Edelgard?"

"I said it was pathetic, didn't I?" Raine answered hotly, and she scowled at her door as her back stiffened and that accursed heat continued to spread its way across her face and down her neck. She felt like a child, and her pride was sorely wounded to have to say such things aloud for him to hear. She was in no danger of losing him. That had always been clear since the moment he'd come to her quarters and woken with her that following morning. But still, she was haunted with uncertainty and restlessness and irritation, and she muttered sourly as she felt his stare keenly on her back, "Just... Let me have tonight to just... repair what's left of my pride. I'm more angry at myself than anything, and I'd just rather be alone for awhile until it passes."

"I'm afraid I can't allow that."

The words surprised her, and she turned to look over her shoulder to see him studying her with a furrowed brow, and a dark look passing over his cerulean eye. She opened her mouth to question him, but her words died in her throat as he stepped forward smoothly, causing her to instinctively step back in answer. In moments he had her effectively pinned up against her door, and he reached to settle a hand far too close to her face, blocking any attempt at an escape as he crowded her in. When she looked up at him, surprised and mute, he leaned down, his bangs brushing against her skin as his mouth brushed her ear, "Do you truly think after telling me such a thing that I'd simply turn about and walk away to leave you alone? If you're feeling possessive, why would you send me away? You already know that I belong to you. All you need to do is reach out to take me. And if you won't, because of something as paltry as pride... Well, then I'll act first, and beg your forgiveness later."

"Wait, that's not what I-" The protest died again in her throat as Dimitri's teeth scored her earlobe, eliciting a sharp gasp and making her thoughts flee her head far too quickly for her liking. She hated how easily he could flip the tables just by laying a hand on her, but her body betrayed her far more often than it fought back. It didn't help that he was rarely so demanding or forceful. He was too cautious, too wary of himself to ever let himself get swept up in lust whenever they were intimate, but something had lit a fire in him and she could feel it from the tense way his body pressed so intimately against hers and into the door behind her. Her knees trembled as his mouth left a hot, wet trail down her throat, and his free arm wrapped itself snugly about her waist to pull her closer even as she gasped, "That's... That's not fair, Dimitri..."

"I said I'd beg your forgiveness later. You want me, don't you?" Dimitri's voice came dark and growled somewhere in the crook of her neck, and she bit back a groan as his teeth dragged lovingly against the sensitive skin of her throat. He was surprisingly insistent, pushing her further into the wood of her door and between his body, forcing her to feel just how aroused he was and giving her no avenue to struggle. He was far too strong for that, but any ideas she had of escape were already gone. The hands she'd raised to push him back were limp on his chest, and her strength had flown with her better sense as his hand traced the shape of her curves as it lifted along her side, "Be honest with me. With yourself. You aren't the only one of us who suffers from jealousy... and I know just the cure for it."

"Mn..." Raine bit her lower lip, desperately attempting to muffle her voice as he effortlessly took her from her feet, winding her legs about his hips as he used her door to brace her. His hands grasped down powerfully on her hips, dragging her core down onto his, and this time she couldn't help herself as a moan started deep in her throat and escaped her mouth at the delicious and sudden friction. She felt him baring his teeth against her shoulder, smirking with arrogant pride, and she shivered despite herself as her arms looped weakly, helplessly about his shoulders. She couldn't fight him. They both knew it. She would have to wait until his hands left her body, and the heat faded from her skin to take him to task for this. Any attempts now would only be frail and half-hearted, and he wouldn't listen to her unless she meant what she said. She could only bite her lip harder, trying to restrain herself as best she could as she begged raggedly in a last-ditch attempt for control, "Don't... take me out here in the open..."

"Then you won't complain if I take you in your quarters?" Dimitri asked roughly, and a quick glance up into her dazed, pleading seafoam-coloured eyes was enough of an answer. He held her easily with one hand as his other slid for the door, pushing it open and carrying her inside with no effort whatsoever. He kicked the door shut behind him, barely minding the noise as he placed her down on her cot, laying her down flat as he leaned down over her in the next movement. His mouth brushed once, twice against her own, urging her answer, and the third time earned him another of those deep moans he craved as her fingers raked through his hair and tugged him down more firmly to her.

She moved restlessly beneath him, hands now tugging at his cloak to pull it loose and off of his shoulders, and he granted her what she wanted without delay. He sat up, discarding both his cloak and shirt in a smooth movement, and she followed him upwards almost instantly to trace her fingers across his scarred flesh. His breath caught in his throat as her lips joined her hands, leaving a path of hot, open-mouthed kisses everywhere she could reach, and he hissed as he grasped roughly at her clothes in response to rid her of the thin garments hiding her body from him.

It was a flurry of movement that followed, hot kisses, grasping and groping hands, and clothing sliding off of slick skin to find a home somewhere on the ground to be discovered later in the morning. Dimitri heard her moan his name more than once as he pinned her back down into the thin mattress of her cot, holding her still as his mouth and hands roamed her flushed, trembling body, and it took far more effort than he ever would admit to keep himself from marking her skin with his lips and teeth. Hearing her admit so honestly that she was jealous that another woman had driven him from their bed had set fire to his blood, making him want her more hungrily than ever to soothe her worries, but he knew indulging his own lusts wouldn't sate her the way she truly needed to be sated. After all, when it had been him, taking her for himself had only ever been the real balm, and he couldn't very well satisfy her if he continued to take the lead.

It took effort, far more effort than he wished it did to finally draw back from her, and he pulled her with him as he moved to lay down underneath her. A quick and easy flick of his wrists had her straddling his waist, and she looked down at him with both surprise and embarrassment as he relaxed himself and his hold on her body. She was flushed from head to toe, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen from their furious trading of kissing, but he could see the reason returning to her at the momentary lull. He settled a hand gently on her hip, lifting his other to stroke her reddened cheek, tracing the shape of her face before he spoke quietly, gently, "I belong to you. You, and you only. There's no one else I wish for, no one else I want this way... Just you. It's been like that since the day we first met. You never have to fear me straying."

"I don't fear that... Truly, I don't..." Raine murmured quietly, turning her face into his hand to nuzzle his palm and press a gentle kiss to his callused skin. He touched her so gently despite the previous rush of passion, and she believed every single word he spoke without hesitation or concern. She knew he was being honest, that his heart was always for her hands and her hands only, but... That lance of hurt and uncertainty and bitterness had struck all the same. Her emotions went to war with her better sense, and they won out more often than not because of how strong they were, and how weak she was to them. "I know that you love me. That's why I was so..."

"Remind yourself." Dimitri coaxed her gently, his smile tender and easy as he turned her head back in his direction so she could see his expression clearly. He lay willing and still underneath her, exposed and at her mercy, and he was completely at ease as she looked down at him both uncertainly and with more than a little embarrassment. He reached for her hand, gently taking it from her side to rest it on his chest, and when she looked to him with a bit lip, he reassured her softly, "Take me as you would, my beloved. Without restraint, or the need for permission. I'm yours to do with what you will, until you're finally satisfied. Remind yourself that I'm yours, and any thoughts I may have had tonight were just fleeting whims to be discarded in a moment in comparison to you."

"That's... asking a lot..." Despite her words, Raine felt her hands reaching to feather their way across his chest in accord to his permission all the same. He closed his eye, inhaling deeply as her fingertips brushed along his defined muscles and raised scars, caressing every inch she could reach instinctively and hungrily. It was different than what she was used to, taking him for herself when usually it was so much more shared when they were intimate. No matter who initiated or how, in the end it was always the two of them tangled in one another, finishing at the same time or so closely together that there was never a doubt of whose pleasure mattered more. Telling her to take complete control of him was new, but she wouldn't lie and say she didn't feel a small thrill at the idea.

Letting instinct take over, Raine leaned herself down across his chest, her lips tracing playfully on his neck as she reached to settle his arms down at his sides. He obeyed her without question or complaint, laying still for her and only moving when she directed him, and she rewarded his compliance with a little nip to the hammering pulse point in his throat. The catch in his breath made her twitch, and her hips moved slowly against his, grinding their cores together, as her teeth sank into his skin more purposefully this time to leave a mark that would last long past the heat of this night for the very least.

"Raine..." Dimitri hissed without thinking, eyes closing tightly as her bite was accompanied by that painfully sweet feeling of their cores grinding together without the damned feeling of clothing to get in the way. She was careful and intentional with her movements, ensuring he'd only feel teasing moments of warmth and friction despite what she knew he wanted most, and her teeth sank in deep into his neck to ensure the imprint of her bite would last well after the sun rose. The idea made his body quiver, and made him throb with want to return the favour... but he had surrendered his control to her for the moment, and he had to restrain himself despite his baser wants.

"Don't move..." Raine murmured softly, and she arched her back, savouring the sensation of him sliding against her for that delicious pressure that only made her want him more with every passing breath. He was panting heavily underneath her already, and that throbbing heat between her thighs was like steel in testament to how much he already was wanting for her. It made her smirk, and she nuzzled his neck again, peppering his skin with kisses again before slowly, painfully slowly, she started to slide herself down.

Dimitri gritted his teeth, fighting not to hold his breath as he opened his eye to watch as her kisses trailed farther south across his stomach and down to his thighs. She moved like silk across his skin, easily sliding her way south, and he knew she could feel him trembling as he held himself as still as he could manage for her. Despite her initial complaint, she seemed to be taking to her instruction well to do what she pleased with him. It wasn't as if he was unused to her assertiveness, after all, she had proven multiple times already she could be just as hungry for him as he was for her, but this felt different as he restrained himself from reaching for her. He wanted to thread his hands through her hair, to cradle her closer and arch and curve into her touch, but she had made it clear she wanted him still. It was both torture and pleasure, twisting together into something bittersweet and burning, and he ground his teeth together as he reminded himself to behave.

Raine smirked as she watched his inner struggle, watching as the frustration, pleasure, and hunger flickered across his face in waves depending on her movements and teasing. It was oddly freeing, being told she could do what she wished with him, and her mind was spinning with ideas and fantasies that would take far more than one night to get through. Still, she supposed she could have one or two to work through while he was giving her the opportunity, and she scorched his inner thigh with her breath before teasing him a little further with a warning, "I'll quit if you move, so hold as still as you can..."

"Now who's the one asking a lot...?" Dimitri groaned, tilting his head back against the pillows as her breath feathered across his skin before she took him into her mouth without warning. His fingers grasped down tightly into the sheets as he fought to keep his hips from lifting in answer to the sudden sensation of being enveloped in that sharp, wet heat. It was almost cruel, trying to remain absolutely still as she tortured him, but he knew that was exactly what she intended. After all, he had told her to have her way with him, and if that meant reminding him what kind of pleasure she could give him... Who was he to argue?

Raine moaned deep in her throat as she attended to him, reaching to grasp his hips to keep him firmly pinned down to the bed despite his promise. She could feel his muscles straining underneath her hands as her tongue and lips worked him over, and it made her ache as she instinctively squeezed her legs together in a desperate effort to stymie her own wants. She wanted to hear him groan, to milk out her name from his mouth until he couldn't restrain himself any longer, and the excitement made her all the more eager. It was definitely far too exciting, and she well understood now what he had meant to do by giving up his control for her to take. She was hungry for him, for the things she could do and make him do, and the thought was intoxicating.

Dimitri's grasp tightened on the sheets as she continued her work, thoroughly engrossed in giving him as much as she could manage. Her nails scraped playfully across his thighs, her tongue tracing every inch of him, and it was torture to keep his hips down every time she took him deep and added more of that sinful suckling and licking and movement of her lips and head. It was taking more self-control than he had guessed it would to hold himself still, and he was both glad she was holding him down as much as he wanted to move. He gritted his teeth, breath catching as he felt that familiar pressure building as he gasped out warningly, "Raine... D-Damn it, I... can't...!"

Raine groaned despite herself, feeling and watching his hips twist against his better sense before his orgasm surged through him and tore apart his control. One hand flew abruptly from the sheets, threading into her hair to hold her firmly in place as his hips jerked helplessly, and she closed her eyes and surrendered to both him and her own wants as she attended to him eagerly. His responding groan was almost anguished, as if he'd been run through, and she felt his nails scraping at her scalp as she pushed him mercilessly on throughout his climax.

It felt like a lifetime before he finally felt himself collapse, shuddering and panting as the white-hot shocks of pleasure continued to lazily wind their way throughout his system. He numbly was aware that somehow he still was erect and willing for her, but she gave him mercy as she pulled back when she felt his hand relax and slide down lifelessly back onto the bed. He watched through a half-lidded eye as she lifted her head, and his stomach and thighs both clenched reflexively as he watched her lick her lips, removing the evidence of her torture with the tip of her index finger before likewise cleaning it away as she stared up at him with catlike sadism. His breath caught in his throat, making it hoarse and rough as he whispered raggedly, "Raine..."

"Mm..." Raine shifted herself slowly, painfully aware of the hot throbbing between her own thighs that reminded her of her unattended to desire, but she ignored it as she carefully, tenderly moved to once again straddle him. She was wary to avoid contact with his core, leaning down across his chest to feather gentle kisses across his shoulder and neck, and she was doing a poor job of hiding her smile as her hands lazily, lovingly, brushed through his hair and down his shoulders. Every touch was soothing and gentle, watching and feeling his rough breathing settling, and she pressed herself flush to him, nuzzling her cheek to his before she murmured teasingly, "Did you enjoy that?"

"More... than I likely should have..." Dimitri admitted through his deep breaths, and he could barely manage to sling an arm over her waist as she settled herself on his chest, crossing her arms to cushion her chin before she offered him a smile as she watched him with a smug sort of smirk. She looked far too beautiful to be doing such a thing to him, and if his accursed limbs weren't still so weak... He let out another breath, applying as much pressure as he could manage to squeeze her close before he asked her roughly, "And you...?"

"There's a little more I could... enjoy having from you... but it can wait for a moment. I like the view." Raine answered with a small laugh, and her eyes twinkled with affectionate mischief when he looked at her with raised eyebrows. She uncrossed her arms, looping them loosely about his neck before she slid herself carefully up a little bit more so she could properly nuzzle him. Her fingers gently traced the slick string of his eyepatch, following it until it was lost in his hair, and she smiled as he turned his head, his lips chasing every inch of skin he could reach when she gave him the chance.

The sight made every ounce of her melt, made everything that had been aching and hurting earlier that night seem distant and dull in comparison to what she was now feeling. Her chest was pleasantly full, warm, and tight all at once, and she ached for him in that bittersweet way that she was growing all too familiar with. She wasn't sure how he did it, how something so simple as a touch, a kiss, or even a glance could tear away every shield and barrier she had, but she was glad he had the ability. Otherwise, she knew she would have been tossing and turning in the cold emptiness of her bed, cursing herself for sending him away rather than where she was now.

Dimitri had regained enough of his strength now to move himself, and while one arm remained snugly curled about her waist, his free hand was moving idly up and down the contour of her spine. His fingers drifted every so often, errantly tracing the upraised skin of her scar, and she shivered despite herself at the warmth that erupted across her flesh at the caress. It was sensitive to touch, even moreso than the rest of her body, but he was always gentle, and never once had he hurt her, even by accident in his search to touch and familiarize himself with her wound. His lips travelled gently across her wrist, reaching her palm as she drew back for him so he could feather all over her fingers. He watched her quietly, but his emotions were written plainly on his face, and after a moment or two, he nuzzled her fingers and questioned softly, "Are you all right?"

"I'm much better than I was... Thank you." Raine answered softly, and she stroked her fingers through his hair before settling herself a little more lazily across him. Her free hand stretched across the bed, finding the edge of her blankets before she tugged them haphazardly up and over them. For his credit, Dimitri helped her pull the sheets over as best as he could without dislodging both himself and her, and she rewarded him with a kiss to his jaw before she settled again. He continued to watch her closely, his one eye calm and affectionate, and she nestled close into his hold before sighing, "I'm not sure how you knew what I needed, but I am grateful for it. Even if you did start off a bit more forceful than I'd have liked. Still, I guess I can't complain... I feel much better. More settled... I'm still too childish about all of this, I think."

"Isn't this as new to you as everything else?" Dimitri pointed out with a tilted head, and Raine looked up at him sharply, confused and intrigued at his quizzical, but gently probing tone. His hand drifted again up her shoulder, now reaching to caress her hair and tuck her bangs behind her ear for her so he could see her face better. He adjusted himself slightly, sliding up so he could better rest his head against the pillows behind him, before he continued idly, "Intimacy, affection, jealousy... That's all pack and parcel of being human as much as anything else. And you've had no experience with that, either, yes? So all of this is doubly new to you. It makes sense you'd struggle with how to define, and how to feel, the things that you're feeling. You were the same way five years ago. Why would it not be the same now?"

"I suppose that's one way to put it..." Raine mused, tilting her own head thoughtfully as she wondered at his words. She hadn't thought of it in that kind of manner, though she realized Dimitri had a point in what he was saying. It _was_ new, in many more ways than one. Intimacy had brought on a fresh new wave of emotions for her to sort through and understand, and while many she seemed to be able to handle, it was clear she still was struggling with the learning curve. It made her smile wryly, and she rested her cheek on his chest, feeing the comforting thrum of his heartbeat on her skin before she sighed, "And here I thought perhaps I'd grown out of that... It seems I'm still learning. When did you become my professor? Is there something you need to tell me?"

Dimitri smiled at her pert remark, propping himself up on his elbows to press a kiss to the top of her head before he leaned back down. She looked slightly abashed but not really all that troubled, which was a relief to him. He well understood what it was she meant and how troubling it all could sometimes be. The progression they had gone through was faster than most, with far more turmoil than either had been ready for, so it made more than enough sense that despite it all, they still had hurdles left to them. He pet her hair again, threading the strands lovingly through his fingers as he remarked, "Perhaps we moved too quickly, at the start? It's possible, though I admit, I don't want to think of it as being a poor decision... It's been quite a long time since I could sleep in peace. That I know is because of you."

"Perhaps. Though if you think it's been too fast, imagine how I feel." Raine returned with a short laugh, but there was no bite or heat to her words. Sometimes she still slipped, forgetting the time she'd lost and remembering things that to others, seemed far too vivid after their five long years away. That, though, was her burden to bear, and not theirs, and she wouldn't blame or fault them for it. She'd had to adjust to her new reality, moon by moon, though some times were easier than others. Still, in the end, she knew she agreed with him, and she curled herself more snugly into his embrace as she sighed, "Still... You're right again, though. Even if it was too quick... I'm glad... and thankful."

Dimitri curled his arms more tightly about her, holding her close and enjoying the feeling of her body nestled so intimately against his own. That feeling of the outside world becoming distant and irrelevant was returning, driving everything else out of his thoughts until there was nothing but her and how warm and good she felt as they lay together in her bed. Her scent was everywhere, permeating him through, and he ached at the thought of needing to leave either in the morning, or at any other time. It made him smile somewhat wryly, wondering at how easily he'd adjusted to sharing her space and staking such a claim on her, and he kissed the top of her head again, musing mostly to himself, "You're far too good to me..."

"I could be worse, if that's what you'd prefer." Raine teased him gently, and she reached over to playfully poke the tip of his nose as he looked up at her with a lopsided smile of his own. Her fingers lingered, tracing his cheek in a light, careful caress before once more losing themselves in his thick, shaggy blond mane. Again he turned his head, lips chasing at her forearm to cover any inch of skin he could reach in kisses, and she bit her lower lip as the familiar prickles of warmth began to stir again every time his mouth brushed over her flesh. A little shiver she couldn't quite control fled her body as he continued when she quit her own movements, and her body clenched instinctively as his teeth grazed her wrist lovingly.

She felt Dimitri's lips curve into a smile, and she opened her mouth to scold him for it before she was aware of movement beneath the sheets and directly behind her. Too late did she feel his hands suddenly catch her hips and pull, and her face reddened sharply as her lower body was cruelly reminded of what she had been ignoring at the sudden friction between her thighs. She pushed against his chest, knowing full well she couldn't escape him but making a token effort nonetheless as that accursed heat began to burn its way over her skin as if it had never left when she gasped, "H-Hey, that's-"

"Underhanded? Perhaps... but you've tended to me already... When is your turn?" Dimitri finished for her smoothly, and he met her startled, embarrassed glance with a fearless, hungry smirk of his own. She twitched under his hands, body shivering against his as he drew her firmly against him, and he took full advantage of her new position to lift himself up on his elbows to trace her jawline with his lips. Her breath caught in her throat, her hands clenching on his shoulders, and his right hand slid easily about her waist, teasingly, tauntingly venturing down as he nipped at her throat and told her bluntly, "I want you... Properly, this time. As good as it felt, being at your mercy... I won't be able to rest without returning the favour."

"W-Wait, I'm not-" Raine felt her protest die somewhere in her throat as he sat her up on her knees with rough, unforgiving movements, but admittedly she didn't care overmuch when he pulled her hips back down in the next stroke to ensure she didn't lose a moment of that friction between their cores. He moved her body for her, reminding her of the fact that she had only pushed her desire out of her mind for the moment, and her body had been more than eager to leap for it again the moment an opportunity had presented itself. Still, she fought him, holding back against those insistent hands of his as she begged for mercy, "Please... I'm already... You don't have to tease me like this... It already... It _aches_..."

Dimitri gritted his teeth at her earnest plea, and he sat up abruptly under her, yanking her mouth to his in a fierce, unrelenting kiss. She moaned almost immediately, body going limp as she surrendered to his passion, and his hips ground upwards as hers pushed down in search of sorely needed fulfilment. It made him burn, hearing her admit so easily that she wanted him to the point of pain, and his fingers bit into her hips as he lifted them again, roughly adjusting her before pulling her down again so he could plunge her onto him in one, smooth movement. He swallowed her next moan, his hips bucking roughly in time with his hands, and his breath was harsh and ragged when he spoke against her lips, "Let me... make sure you feel everything you need... until you're _fully_ satisfied..."

"Goddess, yes...!"

Dimitri bared his teeth in a wild smile against her throat, his hands firm and strong on her hips as she moved with him without restraint or reserve. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her, and nothing as petty as injured pride could compete with that single-minded desire. His tongue laved at her pulse point, feeling the blood pumping underneath her skin despite her heart laying still inside of her chest, and he returned her mark with dark pleasure. He'd give her plenty more to look after for the morning, before he was through with her. He would make sure she knew nothing but him throughout the rest of the night, putting her worries, her jealousy to rest. And his teeth scraped their way up her neck, biting at her earlobe as he hissed, "This bed... We'll stay here as long as it's needed... I'll remind you over and over... until you scream for mercy... that I love you..."

Eager fingernails scored his back as her arms curled tightly about his shoulders, and all sense of speech was forgotten as she pressed her mouth heatedly to his in answer to his promise. Their tongues met and danced, breathing heavy and bodies already slick with sweat as they moved together. Better sense was already gone, leaving only grasping hands, panting mouths and an ever higher burning flame that demanded quenching. Errant thought mused that the evidence would be much harder to hide from curious eyes on the morrow, but for the moment, Dimitri's promise held true. In her shared quarters, in her bed, with just the two of them... There was no room for anything else but each other.

Strong, bruising hands grasped at her hips, anchoring her movements as she rocked herself against his each and every thrust eagerly. He was forgetting himself, eager and hungry for her, and some wild part of her delighted in it. It was rare that he allowed himself to be rough, to be demanding, and knowing he was seeking after her just as much as she was seeking for him was a jealous sort of pleasure. Her hands answered his, combing through his hair, fluttering down his arms and back to feel his tensing muscles, his raised, jagged scars, and grasped down tighter when his teeth scored her flesh over and over between harsh breaths for air.

"I love you..." He whispered the words raggedly against her skin, lips moving with desperate purpose to find every inch of her body to mark and mar if it was within reach. She answered him wordlessly, tilting her head back for him, presenting her body for his greed, and he bared his teeth in a dark, animalistic smirk. She would be littered with marks on the morrow, and while a distant little part of him knew he might regret it when he saw the extent of it in the morning... In the moment, he wanted to see it more than anything. Each and every mark that denoted her body as belonging to him... Reminders of how she sounded and felt in his hands, against his body, in her bed.

"More... Give me... more..." Raine's breath was a hot gasp against his mouth as she tugged his face back up to her own as his hands fixed themselves firmly on her backside. His thrusts were harsh and calculated, each one reaching back where it ached with bittersweet pleasure for him, and her hips rocked with him to meet him stroke for stroke. But it wasn't enough. Her skin was burning, on fire from all of his caresses and the remembrance that she hadn't been pleasured as he had yet, and she groaned as his tongue plundered her mouth, robbing her again of speech and thought with one cruel kiss.

Dimitri needed no further prompting, and with firm, rough hands he pushed her onto her hands and knees to take her from behind. Her loud, resonant moan as he began to move again was all the proof he needed that he had given her what she wanted, and a hand snaked about her neck, sliding across her parted lips before slipping into her mouth. She groaned again as her body shuddered and arched under his harsh pacing, and he gave her no reprieve as his free hand reached about to roughly grasp at her left breast and grind her pert nipple against his callused palm. He growled into her ear, arching her head further back so his tongue could easily circle the shell of her ear as he pushed her down into the thin mattress of her cot, "I told you before... that you weren't the only one who suffers from jealousy... You've made me realize that you've only chained the beast in me to you, rather than banished it... Every time I see a man even so much as make you smile, I want to tear him limb from limb... You've made me into a whole different animal, haven't you...?"

"Nnm...!" Raine's fingers grasped desperately at the sheets as her back arched, eager to take him as deep as this new position would allow and feel the strength of his body on her own. His words made her tremble and turned her bones to water, a hot reminder of how much he was hiding beneath that polite smile and the tender, casual caresses she was so used to. She didn't need more than this to prove he meant every word he said. He was a jealous, possessive man who wanted to keep her all for himself, and for the life of her, she couldn't help but be incredibly pleased with the knowledge. She wanted him the same way, with the same single-minded desire, even if it wasn't something she should be able to have.

The cot creaked beneath them from their frenzied, desperate movements, providing a natural rhythm in the dim room as hands gripped tighter and their bodies moved more desperately. The moans came broken and muffled, either by hands or teeth, and the sharper, more louder noises came abruptly and with too much fury to be stifled. A haze settled itself over them, blinding them to time, volume, and restraint, and it was only found when Dimitri felt Raine's body shudder uncontrollably beneath his yet again, and her lips pleaded weakly for mercy through strained, almost anguished panting for air. She was no longer holding herself up by her own strength, her limbs having long since lost their ability to keep her upright, and it was his grip and his grip alone that kept her from simply melting into a heap below him.

Dimly, Dimitri was aware he had pushed her too far, he had taken too much, but his hands refused to obey those signs for a moment. They continued their work, lightly teasing and brushing between her thighs, eliciting weak mewls of pleasure combined with barely audible protests for a reprieve. She was too weak to stop him, breathless and trembling in his arms, but eventually he pulled his hand away and gently lowered her into the cot. Only after she touched the mattress did he follow, his own body realizing the extent of his exhaustion, and the last bit of good sense he had left made sure he fell to the side and not on top of her entirely. He curled up behind her, an arm thrown loosely over her waist as he nuzzled into her neck, panting and fighting for both calm and control.

Even still, he wanted her. The beast he'd been caging was roaring and rampaging, uncaring of how tired its mate was and demanding sating, but he coldly locked it back behind its bars. He couldn't do more to her even if he wanted to, not after she had all but begged for him to stop. She was overstimulated and oversensitive, shivering each time his breath touched her neck, and though he knew deep somewhere in him he had the reserves to continue... He wouldn't push her farther. Instead he curled himself carefully about her, his arm tightening gently about her waist when he felt her stirring, and his voice was hoarse, rough, but still gentle when he cautioned her quietly, "Don't move, my beloved... Relax..."

"I love you..." The reply was whispered and breathless, almost barely louder than a sigh, and Dimitri felt his lips pull back into a smile despite himself. She didn't move again, though whether it was from sheer exhaustion, or a wise decision to follow his advice, he didn't know. He felt her relaxing in his hold, her breathing steadying as her hands weakly clasped the much larger one that was resting protectively on her stomach as he cradled her closely to him. Exhaustion proved the culprit as only moments later her entire body had uncurled and gone limp, her breathing steady and her eyes closed as the gentle grip of sleep pulled her under without effort.

He almost chuckled, watching how easily she succumbed to it, but he was well aware that he was no better. Despite still feeling the smouldering embers of desire, his muscles ached, and the long scratches trailing across his back were beginning to smart. He had already been mentally and emotionally drained, and now his body was catching up to the rest of him. He reached with his free hand, finding the blankets Raine had tossed aside earlier when she had left the bed to find him, and slowly, carefully, he spread them out over their entangled forms.

He nuzzled her neck gently, listening to the sound of her even, calm breathing and feeling the warmth of her skin under his hands as they lay together. She was always so warm to him, sometimes so that he wondered if she would one day burn him, but he knew that was only unconscious fear speaking. Old habits that demanded isolation, demanded a strict amount of distance between his body and that of another's, had made him forget just how warm another person's hands could be. And the small, fragile grasp on his wrist was indeed warm, and a comfort he took all too gladly even though she was no longer aware of it.

Carefully, oh so carefully, Dimitri adjusted his hold and clasped her tightly in his arms. The rush had faded, leaving only that strange, unyielding sense of peace that he had grown so addicted to. An afterglow, he dimly remembered her calling it once, and he had to agree that the words were apt. His chest felt full, his arms were cradling the most precious thing in the world close to him, and despite everything that was standing outside of the safety of the monastery's walls... He felt completely at ease. Here, with her, he was home. Here, with her, they were safe. The seductive thought lured him, and as he tucked his face against her shoulder, eye closing despite himself, he whispered with the last bit of consciousness he had left, "Nothing will part me from you... Not in this world, nor in the next... I love you, Raine..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Just a warning for the future, but the next chapter is going to cover a very pivotal, and very divisive moment in AM, as I am sure you can all guess. The parley scene is kind of infamous, with all of the connotations concerning the characters of Dimitri and Edelgard (and apparently translation/localization, but I'm not touching that with a ten foot pole!), and when you throw in two rather strong-headed personalities with Warin and Raine, I'm sure you can imagine it's not about to go just as "simply" as it went in canon. Especially considering the differences in story that have taken place up to this point in this particular fanfiction.
> 
> Now, to be very clear... This has never been a story where Edelgard was a protagonist, and I have never been very generous in my depiction of her, or of how Warin and Raine think of her. Of course, I am also aware that this is just my own interpretation of her character and actions, especially in this singular route, so it's very likely that some, or most, people will not agree with how she is depicted in the next chapter. However, with all that said... I don't intend to change what I have set out to write, and if you find you disagree, I can only apologize and say I warned you ahead of time.
> 
> In this route, in almost every route, Edelgard is an antagonist. Debates can and have been made about whether her actions were justified, whether her actions can be excused or warranted, whether she is a tragic hero, and if she should be supported or vilified... And, I think by now, it's pretty obvious where I lean on these kind of subjects. I won't go into detail, because this isn't a story about my views. It's a story about the views of Raine and Warin and Dimitri, and the experiences they've lived through and the consequences those experiences have wrought on them. So, as I said with Claude, if there's disagreements to be made, I'm only going to apologize that this story is not a story where sympathy for Edelgard will be a main focus, nor will I be treating her with kid gloves. I'm unfortunately not that type of author, and these characters aren't those type of characters. They're blunt, opinionated, and just as flawed as the people they're being pitted against, or allying up with. There are plenty of shades of grey to be had in Three Houses... but some shades of grey are darker than others.
> 
> Either way, the chapter to come is not something I'm looking forward to, but it's going to be done. I likely won't leave much of an AN on it, if only because I don't like writing essays justifying my writing of a character, especially when I know what kind of minefield I'm walking into when I'm doing it. I tend to have a very hands-off approach in how I handle fandom in general, as I only write and rarely read, and I even more rarely participate in discourse. But I do see how fandom tends to bash, burn, love and worship characters, and that's just how fandom works. (And after almost sixteen years of writing, this is something all fandoms are guilty of!) All I ask is that you please don't do that here, and assume that because of my writing that my opinions must be X or Y and therefore I think Z about them, and am a terrible person as a consequence. I don't make those assumptions about my readers, so please don't make those assumptions about me. Please be respectful and kind, and I shall be respectful and kind in turn.
> 
> Thanks for reading thus far, and I hope to see you again in my next update. Please drop a review should you feel the need, and stay safe and healthy until next time!
> 
> Mood: Bemused.
> 
> Listening To: "Firelight" - Within Temptation
> 
> ~ Sky


	25. End of the Roads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: War, Ideology, Angst, Friendship. (T)
> 
> Characters: Raine, Dimitri, Warin, Edelgard, Hubert.
> 
> Summary: They stood at the inevitable crossroads, enemies to the very last, and it was a last-ditch effort for him to reach out his hand in a desperate effort to understand one who did not care to be understood. Their ideals, their lives, their experiences would simply never allow for it. But those who would been brought along disagreed, and were not afraid to voice it as the parley continued, and though weapons were sheathed and lowered, the words rang out as sharp as any blade. In the end, it was all hypocrisy, and blood would flow no matter what was said. That was the ending she had devised for them, and that was the ending they would ensure she reached.

**Verdant Rain Moon**

**Ruins of Fort Merceus**

**Morning**

The tension was palpable, filling the destroyed glade where the ruins of Fort Merceus stood at their backs, but Warin had little interest for the once great fortress. Instead, his sharp eyes were for the two figures cresting the hill, ready to enter into the parley that Dimitri had requested, and a small part of him tried to hold in his laughter at the sight of them. He could rather easily believe their arrogance in appearing, after all, they were self-righteous enough to believe that, even now, they were in the right, but he still couldn't quite fathom the depths of their idiocy. They were treating with two former mercenaries, not just the future King of Faerghus, and how foolish were they to believe that everyone there would be so willing to treat the unspoken laws of parley as steel?

No, Warin was not so foolish. It would be easy, far too easy, to end the war right then and there, and it was why he had chosen to accompany them when Raine had told him what Dimitri's wishes were. He didn't need to call the man an idiot, Raine's distaste and dislike was enough to let him know she had no love for this farce, but he had insisted that he be permitted to join them. A morbid part of him wanted to see how this would play out even though he was aware of how it would go, but another wanted to make sure the numbers were leaned heavily in their favour in case the worst came to worst.

He put no stock in unspoken laws and the honour of nobles. It was nothing but dust in the wind, a feeble attempt to cling to things that had long since been shattered when the war had first crested, and he was not about to care if he broke sacred rules to spill blood should the need arise. A parley meant nothing to him, and those who were arriving to speak meant even less. They, as far as he were concerned, had come this far and done enough to earn a quick, humiliating death, and yet they were eager to draw it out simply because they refused to see reality. If that was their wish, he knew he would be forced to abide by it because of his commanders, but it did not mean he had to like it.

Enough blood had been shed already. He had no interest in shedding more simply over something as pathetic as differing ideology. Nearing six years of constant warfare and death had beaten out the idea of a "noble war" out of every single soldier they possessed, and down to a man, they were all exhausted and done with killing. There was no rage to spur them on anymore. No righteous pride, or wish for vengeance... Just a tired, bitter knowledge that the war had to end with more fighting, because those they stood opposite of would never see the sense to surrender.

After all, the rebellion's army was immense, and Enbarr's gates could not hold them out. Their scouts had returned only last night to tell of the massing of the remaining Imperial troops, with word of the dark-robes littered throughout their numbers, and the advantage skewed oh-so-heavily in their favour. The capital itself of Enbarr was being ready-made into a battleground, with the smallfolk hiding in their homes in a desperate attempt to weather the coming storm, and simple mathematics already told of their victory. The Empire had suffered too many losses, and though they owned the territory, even that small advantage would not afford them victory against the combined troops of the Church, the Alliance, and the Kingdom.

Enbarr was surrounded, their men outnumbered, and the forces of the rebellion ready and willing to bring it all crashing down in order to end this war once and for all. Though many knew the fighting would not completely be over until Thales and his men were driven into the ground, this was the last big step that was needed to end the conflict across the continent, and to say that all were looking forward to it, if it could be done without mass casualties, was a gross understatement. War fatigue had set in and set in heavily, especially after the massacre at the fortress, but that, too, was the way of war. Six years was a long time, though perhaps not the longest history had ever seen of constant conflict, and an end in sight, any end... It brought forth hope, and a deadly determination to see it all through.

Still, there was that one last damned hurdle to clear, and Warin stood still and calm, back up against a ruined pillar as he leaned against it in a show of casual disinterest as two of their three foes came into no-man's land as if they had no fear, no care, of the massing army that lay just behind their three fellow leaders. He had positioned himself well and behind Raine and Dimitri, not inserting himself in a place of power or leadership, but his presence was undeniable all the same. And when the dark mage's eyes swept over his surroundings and picked him out, Warin bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smirking back at him.

The man's scarred cheek was dark and ugly, proof that their last spat in the fall of Garreg Mach had become a daily reminder for him, and Hubert's face twisted into a deep scowl at the sight of him. He held out an arm, stopping the advance of his lady, and he stood protectively in front of her, hand tightly clenched into a fist as he called out before he gave another step forward to truly meet with those standing in wait for them, "What is this? The letter of parley you sent said nothing of unequal numbers. My lady and I have arrived as requested... and yet here you stand to outnumber us. You are not acting in good faith."

Raine raised her eyebrows, looking from Hubert and then to her brother, and she watched the dark humour flickering in his eyes at the speech. He said and did nothing, arms firmly crossed over his chest and posture as non-threatening as he could look, but it was clear that he was enjoying the fact that his appearance had already started the "negotiations" off to a rough start. She couldn't quite blame him despite it all, as the very first note had already struck sour and proved what tone would be remaining for the rest of it, but she wondered if it was worth it despite her own emotions. After all, seeing that scar on the mage's face and knowing her brother had put it there and shaken him, shaken him deep enough to make him halt at the very sight of him all those years later... That was something a dark and malicious part of her savoured.

"Enough, Hubert. Three men to our two is nothing... and a single man advantage is a grace they offered. After all, the newly crowned leader of the Alliance is likewise not here, nor is Claude, and I see no emissary for the Church, either. This is enough for a parley." Edelgard dismissed her right hand with a shake of her head, and she stepped around him pertly to close the distance despite his obvious objections. Her eyes however spoke a different story despite her words, piercing both of those hated two through as they stood proud and defiant before her as they always had. Raine was watching her closely, body coiled tightly in preparation to pounce at any given notice, while the elder brother was surveying them with something approaching arrogant disinterest. It was what she had expected, with their ignorance bolstering their confidence, and so she ignored them wholly as she turned to look at Dimitri, who was watching her with a tired, wary sort of expression before she greeted him coolly, "Well, well... It has been a long time. We have arrived, as you have requested. What is it you wish to speak of, Dimitri?"

"Edelgard." Dimitri returned her greeting with a stiff nod, feeling Raine's tension on his left, as well as Warin's piercing stare on his back as he spoke up and began to parley in earnest. He did not regret his "choice" in companions, and though an angry row had started when he had denied any others the chance to join him, he was confident that the Eisner siblings were the only two who had the right, and the need, to be there for the discussions to come. Claude had proven he had no true interest in the end of the war, and his personality would quickly erode any patience that was required for these talks. Lorenz was the newly elected leader of the Alliance, and while his first act had been to throw all of his support behind the Kingdom's war with the Empire, he had agreed to the fact that his country's late entry to the rebellion meant his presence was not necessary. Seteth had made no qualms of being told he was not welcome, and he had admitted he had no desire to go as it was. The burning question he had worried over had already been answered, and he had no need for parley. Which left only him, his former professor and her elder brother, and yet all the same... Dimitri shook his head slowly as he admitted, "I did not think you would actually accept my request. To see you here is something of a surprise."

"Call it a whim." Edelgard answered with an errant flick of her wrist, but her eyes once again betrayed her calm demeanour and her casual tone. She could feel Hubert stiff and displeased at her side, clearly aching to pull her behind him and out of harm's way, but she had gambled correctly that the rebellion's honour would not permit for them to break the laws of parley. They would come to no harm here, even if the majority of the rebellion's troops were amassing, preparing for the battle to come. It made her both bold and angry, knowing of the traitors in their midst, and feeling the cold hatred pouring from the eyes of the eldest Eisner as the youngest simply watched her in predatory silence. She felt and shared their hate, their anger, and though it took effort to ignore them and focus her gaze on Dimitri's face, she forced herself to continue, "Your request was simple enough to honour... A simple parley, before the ending of things, as you said... So... Speak. Tell me of your wishes."

"Why did you start this war?" Dimitri cut straight to the point both bluntly and coldly, and as he felt Edelgard's gaze on him, he also felt that familiar, ugly plume of rage warming his chest. She seemed so unconcerned, so unruffled and unshakable, and he had no idea how she could look so after all the blood that had been shed between them. Because of her, the three countries were shadows of their former selves, with so many lost on all three sides that the mourning would not end for generations. And yet she stood aloof and above them all, like it did not matter an ounce to her because she believed so firmly in her cause, in her actions, that she would never be convinced she had done wrong. He knew already this was not entirely the truth, but the aura she projected spoke otherwise, and it made his voice harsher as he demanded, "Surely there were other ways, countless ways, to change the state of your territory without subjecting the whole of the continent to war. A way to change things without so many, innumerable senseless deaths."

"It may be hard to believe, but this is the way that leads to the fewest casualties in the end." Edelgard answered with a shake of her head, and she, now, mimicked Warin's posture as she crossed her own arms to look at him almost sadly. He would never understand, and the look of angry shock in his one good cerulean eye was proof enough of that at her answer. She had expected this, his inability to reason with her, but he had requested this parley, and she had come to give him answers. She was tired of their ignorance, of their inability to understand, and even if would fall on deaf ears... A chance to explain herself, to try and make them _see_ the truth that they had been ignoring, was one she had leapt upon greedily. "Don't you see? The longer we took to revolt, the more victims this crooked world would have claimed. I weighed the victims of war against the victims of the world as it is now, and I chose the former. I believe that I have chosen the best path. The _only_ path."

Dimitri tensed, and he felt Raine exhale, slowly shaking her head with disappointment, but the shock and anger ran high through him at Edelgard's words. He could not believe it. He _would not_ believe it. It sounded too much like madness, putting the lives of innocents on a scale already twisted by internal bias, and believing that her judgement and her judgement alone was enough to deem who deserved to die, as well as when. It was her right as a leader, as it was his own as the future king, and yet... He shook his head again, hands curling into fists as he shot back sharply, angrily, "Even after seeing the faces of those who've suffered, who've lost everything to this conflict, you would _still_ force them to throw their lives away? How blinded are you by your obsessive devotion to this madness? You cannot change the cycle of the strong dominating the weak with such a method. It is impossible."

"You're wrong. Well-intentioned, perhaps, but still wrong." Edelgard disagreed with a shake of her head, and she felt both pity and disgust for him as she saw the disbelief in his eyes and the anger that was emanating from him as he stood opposite of her in defiance. Raine was no longer looking at her, and had turned her head away with her expression disguised by her hair, but she could feel Warin's stare on her like an icy dagger sliding over her skin. He hadn't torn his eyes from her since she had arrived, and some primal part of her quailed underneath the strength of his stare. He reminded her much of the feral man she had met and nearly felled in Grondor, a wild animal hiding in the skin of a man, but unlike how Dimitri had once been, he was restrained in his wildness. He was a predator incarnate, a stalking wolf amongst the heedless herbivores, not the mad bear pursuing the end of everything in sight.

Edelgard admitted she did not know how this change had come upon Dimitri, what had restored his sanity and made him reach out to her now, but she also admitted that it did not matter. He perhaps had regained his mind, but he still was fighting a war based upon lies and delusion, and he would never understand or come to accept the realities of life as she had. He was simply too different from her, and that was something she was truly saddened by. The others, though, they had lived different lives, and it was to them she hoped her message would be heard more than anything else as she explained firmly, "That very cycle, of the strong dominating the weak, is exactly what I have devoted my life and my power to destroying. If after all of this you still believe that the weak will still be weak, then that is only because they are too used to relying on others, rather than relying on themselves."

A sudden burst of laughter broke the tension, and all eyes turned to Warin as he buckled over, a hand on his chest as he laughed loud and long. His face was twisted with mirth, though it was not at all light or warm. There was cold harshness to his every chuckle, an icy sort of sharpness that made the laughter sound dark and almost angry, and there was complete silence as everyone watched and waited for him to right himself. He did so slowly, allowing himself to get out every last chuckle, but when his eyes opened as his body straightened, there was cruel fury simmering deep in his navy irises as he focused his gaze to Edelgard. It was as sharp as a lance, as deadly as the arrow that had took Cornelia, and he remarked with a wave of his hand as his smile spread across his face, cold and unforgiving as the snow in the depths of Faerghus, "Please, forgive me, oh noble ones... I'm suddenly feeling an intense need to empty my stomach over this self-righteous insanity. I fear if I listen to any more of this pathetic blathering I might ruin someone's coat of armour."

Edelgard felt her teeth grind together, and she looked angrily from Dimitri's quiet, taut expression to Warin's coldly amused one with quiet wrath. It was the same as before, just as she had known it would be, and yet still somehow he managed to needle past her mask, past her belief, to ignite her temper just as he had all those many years ago. Except now it felt even worse, as he laughed at her outright rather than challenge her in words as he had before, and she could see his damned sister fighting to hide a smile out of the corner of her eye as if his antics amused her. Her pride was wounded, and she stood tall, tall and defiant as she demanded of him tightly, "Did you come here just to insult me?"

"Please. As if you need _me_ here to insult you. Have you not heard yourself already? You're as insane as the day you pulled me aside to spout this trash six years ago, if not moreso. The weak will be weak because of reliance on others? What hypocrisy you spout, with such a smug look to your face as if you've climbed this heap of bones and corpses all on your lonesome. You are so deluded that the blind see better than you do." Warin returned with another laugh, though his eyes showed no mirth, and his face was a mask of stone with the heat of the world running beneath it just inches below the surface. Though he carried no weapons, he still looked as if he could reach out and crush her skull with his bare hands should he choose to, and he seemed to be very aware of that as he held her stare fearlessly, recklessly, and continued, "But I digress... I've heard more than enough to satisfy my morbid curiosity. Continue on without me. I'll see you on the battlefield, where this should be settled."

Raine bit her lip, stifling laughter of her own was her brother stalked off without another word, or a care in the world. In the moment, despite it all, and despite knowing full well the damage it had done... Raine admitted she loved her brother dearly for daring to step forward and rip away the shields and the excuses that any would hold themselves to without a shred of remorse. It wasn't as if he was wrong, either, and she admitted that if that was to be his only contribution, she was glad to have brought him along. He would not permit her to speak her lies unchallenged, nor would he entertain this madness a moment longer than he had the patience for. It simply was not in him, all sense of decorum or respect be damned, and she admired and envied him for his beliefs, and his willingness to stand for them no matter who he stood in company of.

Edelgard turned on her next, eyes blazing with wrath as the sting of Warin's insults seeped under her armour like the worst kind of poisons. He spoke as if he knew all, despite her knowledge that he was the worst of the lot in his ignorance and myopia, and now he dared to stand against her and call her wrong? His brass was no surprise, as he was the most brave and heedless of anyone she had ever met, but his arrogance was enraging all the same. For a moment she had forgotten, forgotten that his lack of belief in humanity stretched so far that he cared not if the world burnt because he had no love at all in him to give to others. He despised humanity as a whole, strong and weak alike, and yet he dared to reject her world because he believed her a hypocrite. She knew full well his sister had to know this, if no one else did, and she demanded of her harshly, "Why did you permit him to come, knowing full well he would not take his parley seriously? All he wished for was a chance to insult me to my face. Do you truly intend to pretend that he ever had a different motive?"

"Considering that near on six years ago, you pitched this very idea to him, he was quite intrigued to see how well you believed your utopia was coming along. I take it he was extremely unimpressed. But you can't fault him for wishing to be here. You are the one who extended the invitation when you tried to make him see the world as you did." Raine countered with a raised eyebrow of her own, and her arms crossed over her stomach as she stood straight and tense. Warin had kept no secrets from her, and he had told her multiple times of that day in the training grounds when she had approached him, hoping to find common ground with him only to find that he would happily become her enemy before allowing her to see her dream come to fruition. She defended him coolly, sharing in her brother's distaste and disgust, especially in the face of Edelgard's injured pride, and she told her flatly, "He had every right to be here today to hear you make your case... If that's what you would call a case. If you take issue with it, then perhaps you ought to apologize for making an attempt to draw him into your madness in the first place."

Edelgard scowled deeply, realizing that Raine cared little for her feelings, and that Dimitri would not step in to either defend or apologize for the behaviour of those he had brought with him. He had stood silent and staring, watching the exchange as one would watch a fencing match, and his expression was almost inscrutable as Raine added her own cold venom on top of her brother's. She breathed in deep, refusing to be taunted further by those who did not understand, and she turned back to Dimitri, hands curled into fists at her side as she continued with a snarl, "This is what I believe. That the weak will continue to be weak if they only rely upon one another, rather than their own strength... If you believe otherwise, I would hear so. It seems that to be the matter that causes us to differ."

"Perhaps someone with the strength you possess would have such beliefs, but you do not account for those who lack it..." Dimitri answered wearily, and that ugly sinking sensation in his stomach was worsening with each passing minute. He could not delight, or even take amusement, as Warin did. Nor could he feel fury, like Raine did, despite the fact there was truly anger in him somewhere. There was more disappointment and sadness than there was wrath, disappointment in her dismissal of those beneath her boot, and sadness that she had isolated herself so strictly that she could not believe in the strength to be gained from those who could not rise of their own will or desire. "You cannot force that belief upon others. People as a whole, they simply are not as strong as you claim that they are. We are weak creatures, and that weakness means we must depend on one another in order to both survive, and to thrive. This independence and power you speak of, only a select few can safely say they wield it. Others cannot live without their faith, and others cannot go on when they lose their reason for living. Your path will not save them. Are they to be discarded, too, because they cannot live up to your ideals?"

"Even if one clings to their faith, the Goddess will never answer them. Countless souls have already been lost that way. They've lived without purpose, and those who continue to cling to their faith even now continue to live without purpose. And I could have easily been counted among their number, had I not chosen this path." Edelgard answered with a shake of her head, and she leaned back on the balls of her feet at she wondered momentarily at him and his words. They sounded much like the young man she had known in the academy, not the blood-thirsty monster she had sought to end in Grondor. Something truly had changed within him, and she could only guess it was the hands of the professor who had somehow managed to break his insanity. For that, she mused, she should be grateful, as it now meant she could face a man rather than a feral beast, but she didn't feel pity for him any longer. Not when he spoke so surely of things he did not know, or understand. "That is why I am here. That is why I have chosen to fight. To change this crooked world, on behalf of the silent and the weak."

"That is merely self-righteousness." Dimitri argued, his brows furrowing and his hands trembling at his sides as he tried to fight down his anger as her hypocritical words rang harshly in his ears. How could she speak so easily of freeing the weak from a crippled and broken world, when she dismissed them so easily by claiming their faith had left them to live a purposeless life in the first place? The anger was again rising in combat to the deep sadness he was feeling, in disbelief at her arrogance and her inability to see the world before her with clarity, and he combatted her now without reservation or fear as he pointed out harshly, "You stole the power you wield from the broken-hearted masses you're claiming to defend. You're discarding them as you speak, mocking them and their lives, even as you say you are fighting for their freedom. You are pushing your own sense of justice onto them, and calling them failures for being unable to live up to your standards. That is not how a world will ever see change. Not through force of will, or by demand, but by the power of the people as a whole. If you truly believe them to need strength, then they can find it in unison, not underneath a boot of a tyrant. Do you not believe in the power of people to join together, and to rise up, even if they are weak and without purpose?"

"I doubt a high-born person such as yourself would ever understand how the poor feel, or what motivates them." Edelgard dismissed him with a wave of her hand as she began to understand what a waste of time this truly had been. He continued to speak of unity, of power when hands were joined, but he knew nothing of what he spoke. He was a nobleman, born into the lap of luxury and knowing no hardships that had truly robbed others of their power, and their will to live. Their ability to even see a direction, if there was one to take, in order to change the path their lives had been forced down. Of course he could never understand. It made her eyes drift, however, to the only other person who possibly could, who had lived a life different than him, as she continued firmly, "I see that we will never truly agree, nor will we ever truly understand one another now... It is time to end this nonsense."

"Indeed." Raine's voice broke through the conversation for the first time as her eyes met Edelgard's, and her entire body was trembling with wrath as she held that stare and pierced her through with it. Anger, disgust and hate were flowing through every inch of her, making her ache to reach for her blade, and she was only glad that underneath her armour, Edelgard still bore that scar about her throat from their bout in Grondor. She could hardly believe the words she was hearing, and though she had promised to try and hold her tongue... It had gone on too long, and her voice shot like a spear of ice as she demanded furiously, "You _disgust_ me. Are you truly standing here as you are, the Emperor of Andrestia, and claiming that _you_ understand the plight of the poor and the weak better than him? The man you chased off of the throne and into the wild to be hunted like a beast for sport? You are not some lowly commoner, born without wealth, status or power. Look at what you wear. Where you sit! If anyone is to be too far and away to understand the battles of those without strength, it's you. What are you truly serving, beyond your own deluded dreams of merit-based dogma? You come out the victor in your world without lifting a finger because of the power you were born with, and call that your right... and yet you claim to fight for those who have been silenced, or crippled, by the very system you have benefited from since the day you were born!"

Edelgard's teeth ground down tightly, and both anger and a lifelong silent agony roared to the forefront of her mind without her better judgement. Again. Again this woman spoke as if she knew all, but she was well aware of how ignorant she truly was. She knew nothing. Absolutely nothing of the pain and the loss and the indignity she had suffered as nothing but a little girl, and yet now she dared to stand toe to toe with her and claim her privileged? She would not permit it, and she knew she was losing a hold of herself, but her temper and her pride demanded it as she snarled back in reply, "You do not know what I have suffered!"

"Enlighten me, then! Since the day this all began, again and again you've called me ignorant and told me I know nothing, and yet you've made no effort to enlighten me and tell me what it is I am not seeing! You are not about to walk away again, calling me foolish, calling me blind, without giving me what you think I so sorely lack! Not today!" Raine's reply was a roar of a lioness, and her seafoam coloured eyes blazed as she stepped forward threateningly, uncaring and unthinking in her rage. She had had enough. If this was to be the last time she would trade words with this woman, she was not about to be told again she was blind, deaf, and dumb to the world. Not again. She knew better now, had learned _much more_ than she had known the first time they had crossed blades, and she proved it as she met Edelgard tit for tat and growled, "I know full well who pulls your strings, and who is glaringly absent from this parley, Flame Emperor. If you think me so ignorant to you and your suffering, or to your machinations, then answer me this truthfully. Where is Thales, and why are you hiding him, and all of his ilk, from us as well as your own people?!"

Edelgard felt as if she had been bucked abruptly from a horse, and all of her breath left her in a sharp, wounded exhale to hear that name coming from the professor's lips. Dimitri stood at her side, eye studying her with simmering wrath, and there was no surprise whatsoever on his face. She felt Hubert stirring in surprise behind her, clearly just as taken aback as she was to hear him named so loudly, so furiously, and all thought of indignation and rage simply disappeared from her and left her reeling. She could only shake her head slowly, confused, and admittedly afraid for the first time in her life as she demanded almost hoarsely, "How is it that you know that name?"

"I know much more than you realize. Enough to know that had you had the brass to open your mouth six years ago that all of this tragedy could have been avoided before it had even begun. Had you just explained the situation as it truly was, and not what your sick and demented mind had twisted it into being, the true path of least bloodshed could have been taken before you raised your weapons at those who once called you friend." Raine spat back fiercely, and her hand was trembling and aching simultaneously as it fought not to leap for the hilt of her blade. An anger she had never known was surging through her now, unlocking her tongue and allowing every single little thought and hurt and opinion to come flooding out like a storm, unchecked and unchained. "At the start of all of this you called me ignorant... So I set myself to the task of learning the truth. Now, I know everything. The snakes slithering in the shadows who made you their figurehead, the tragedies they orchestrated, the power they forced upon you and the cost you paid for it, and the lives they took... and you how looked away, smiling to yourself, because so long as it benefited you, you could look past the atrocities they committed."

Edelgard felt herself stepping backwards as Raine made to continue forward, but she stopped herself as she felt both anger and a cold wave of dread simultaneously fight to take control of her body. She had guessed that their idiotic choice of felling Fort Merceus would be her undoing, and yet Raine spoke with such confidence that she was well and truly shaken. How was it that she knew these things? How had she connected all these dots, dots that she, herself, had only seen because she had lived it, when this woman had not even known of the existence of Garreg Mach when she had been found whiling away her life as a mercenary in the town of Remire? It made no sense to her, and it frightened her, seeing this woman she had called ignorant laying her bare to the bone with no mercy, and with such righteous rage that she would in no way be surprised if that accursed sword at her side came springing again for her throat.

"Tell me, did you honestly think that at the end of it all, you would end them yourselves when you had amassed the power to do so? You damned fool. This all could have been averted, save for your arrogance, and your insistence on standing alone. Alone, and holding knowledge that could have united Fódlan, and saved countless lives, but for your distrust in all but yourself." Raine stood tall and trembling, her body alight with wrath, and her fingers twitching with desperate need to find her blade and put an end to it all her and now, all laws of parley be damned. She was sick and tired of dancing to this mad tune, to burying bodies of civilians, soldiers, and friends, and she did not want to do it again. She was sick and tired of this war, and the justifications that had been made to see it waged. And that anger and disgust fuelled her, and dripped from her every word as she growled, "Now, here you are, blocking the path to the true end of the corrupted world you want to see gone. You've done nothing but further their goals, not your own, and you're too damned blind to see it, even though you may as well already be a corpse."

"You... You still know nothing of the true reality if that is how you see it..." Edelgard forced out through gritted teeth, and her own temper lit itself again as she felt each word like an arrowhead. She had educated herself, but she still was not seeing the whole of it all. She was merely turning it to her own favour, pinning the fault, the blame, solely on her without seeing the world entirely in its broken, bleeding state. If that was how she wished to see it, that was her choice, but it was still a failure on her part. It still was ignorance at its highest and purest, and she would not permit this woman who did not understand to stand there and accuse her of things she did not know. The blood she had left behind, the blood that soaked her boots and her hands, demanded she take action and refute it, and so she did so, sharply and without mercy, "You want someone to pin this upon so you can end your war and go back to your life as if you have achieved something by ending me, but nothing could be farther from the truth. You do not know reality, if this is what you claim you've learned! You do not really know the enemies that you claim you now see!"

"You think I don't know reality? Allow me to educate you, then, Flame Emperor, on what reality truly is. _You are already dead_." The words were clipped, sharp as steel and as unforgiving as the end of her blade, and her eyes had turned cold and wrathful. She did not reach for her blade any longer, as there was no need for it, but she could feel the warmth of it through its sheath as it hung on her side. It answered her rage, responding to her hatred and her determination just as it always had, and her chest was tight and burning in tandem as she hissed, "I've buried you, you and your army, and your capital has fallen in smoke and ashes. You're nothing but a corpse under my feet to be trodden down on, because I don't care about your dreams or your delusions. The ones I truly want are beyond you. Hide them if you wish. It doesn't matter. I will find them, with or without your cooperation, and I will be the one to end them. Because you do not matter. You've already lost. I've already killed you. And I'm moving on to my next target. The very least you could do is have the good grace to lay down and die, and not make this more difficult than it already is. At least, if all your talk of the most merciful path of the world had an ounce of truth to it."

"You-"

"Shut up. Don't make me break the rules of this parley and end this war here and now. Because I am _sorely_ tempted to take your head from your neck and make that scar on your throat into a permanent fixture. I've had enough of this, and of you." Raine cut her off angrily before it could start all over again, and she was dangerously aware of how close she truly was to breaking all laws of parley and leaving the woman before her as a martyr for the cause of her masters. She would not end it that way, she would not permit this woman who had a hand in the death of her father to be hailed as a tragic hero, and she looked to Dimitri, eyes smouldering with wrath as she told him flatly, "I've said my piece, and heard more than enough. Do as you will. If I stand here and listen to this for another second longer, you'll need to throw me in the dungeons for violating the law of war, even if it means ending it early. Finish what it is you came here to do, and call me when it's time to end it properly. I've no more patience for this charade."

Dimitri watched her go, saying nothing and feeling himself wince deep and inwardly as the flames of her anger burnt into him like the bite of a wolf. He had pondered before at her ability to hold it all close, and had wondered what it would look like when she finally unleashed it, and yet... Yet, still she held back her hand, because the laws of parley demanded it. She had not yet truly unleashed her wrath, not in the way he knew she could, and all the same the remaining trio stood momentarily silent, afraid and taken aback to see the once emotionless woman throwing almost everything to wind and ripping skin from bone with nothing but a steel-bound tongue.

"Did you call for this farce of a parley merely to see me continuously insulted? Is this your idea of a game?"

Edelgard's voice returned him quickly to the task at hand, and he turned his head back from where Raine had disappeared into the woods to glare at her. He understood now why both she and her brother had given up on the idea of such a negotiation the moment it had been raised. And moreover, he knew he had made an error in judgement, thinking that even for a moment, this would do anyone any sort of good. All it had caused was hurt and frayed tempers, and nothing new, nothing of substance, had been revealed to him. She was far out of his reach, far out of the reach of anyone, and there would be no end where blood did not flow. Still, he kept his temper in check, aware that if no one else would that he had to, and he spoke quietly, evenly, despite the wrath that was quietly simmering away in his chest, "I called for this parley to see if you would surrender peacefully, and spare your men, your smallfolk, from the invasion to come. I can see now that to make such a request of you would be foolish... but I have come away understanding you, or at least, understanding that there may never be a way for me to know you. That opportunity passed me by, long, long ago. If where you and I stand now is a consequence of that failure, I shall bear that sin readily enough. You are not the girl you once were, nor am I the boy I once was. Too much time has passed."

"What are you speaking of now? An opportunity to know me? What kind of nonsense-" Edelgard's words caught abruptly in her throat as Dimitri's left hand pulled into his cloak as she spoke, revealing a dagger in his palm as he silently showed her what he had been hiding. For a moment, true and genuine shock crested over her, and she froze as she looked to the dagger, up to his face, and then back down to that innocuous little weapon in his hand. She had thought it lost, and to see it in his hands, and hear those words... The dots connected themselves far too easily, bringing with them muddled memories that she had long since buried, and long since forgotten. She could only stare at that sheathed weapon, her body heavy and mind spinning, and she spoke quietly, uncertainly, "That... You were the one who...? All those years ago, the one who gave that to me... It was you?"

"You've forgotten. As you've forgotten so much else. I will not claim to understand how, or why... but that does not matter. I am returning this to you now, after carrying it with me for the past six years." Dimitri replied quietly, and without preamble or even the facsimile of gentleness, he grasped her hand roughly and pushed the dagger into it before releasing her just as quickly. His eye was narrowed, his body tense, and he was amazed how quickly, how painlessly, all sense of sympathy and sadness had fled him. There was still disappointment, disappointment and perhaps something akin to grief for all that could have been, but it was overshadowed by disgust, and by anger as he watched her studying the dagger with widening eyes. It was far too late... For him, and for her. "When I gave this to you so long ago, I told you carve out your own path with it. And carved out your path you have, even though it has left you standing at the end of a road opposite of mine... You did well for yourself, El, and that I can say sincerely. But I can also sincerely say that now... I will stand here, blocking your way, and I will never allow for the world you seek to come to fruition. When we meet in Enbarr, I will bury that blade with you... That blade, and all of your sins with it."

Edelgard's hands closed about the weapon she had forgotten, and she looked up to meet Dimitri's cold, and unflinching stare. The ease with which he used the name only her dearest family had ever dared to use... It tugged again at her memory, at her heart, demanding clarity to things that were still so out of her reach. Just beyond her fingertips she could feel it, things that she had forgotten either by choice or necessity, she could not tell which, and for one, heart-stopping moment, she wanted to demand him tell her all that she did not know.

In that same moment, Edelgard cast it viciously aside. She had come too far. Her hands, her boots, the very soil she stood upon was caked and stained in blood... and what little memories and feelings she had buried long ago mattered not a whit in comparison. If she had lived this long without those memories, then they clearly were not of importance to her now. They would get in her way, trip her up when she was so damned close to finding a way through the darkness and to the light she had always been chasing after. She did not need the sentiment, just as she did not need the grace of a fabricated Goddess. She would prove her strength of will and create the world she wanted with her own hands, and nothing else. She did not need such things as pretty memories and promises to accomplish that.

"Very well. Then I shall meet you in Enbarr, future king of Faerghus. I shall not surrender. There will be no need. You will fight me, and you will lose... You will not rid me of my dream. Not when I still have a chance to see it come to fruition." Edelgard slid the dagger into her belt, knowing it would be foolish to toss it aside, but meeting his gaze calmly all the same. It felt at home there, despite it all, and yet it also felt surprisingly heavy. She did not wish for it, did not want it, and yet she hadn't thought twice of setting it in her belt to hold it close to her. The dichotomy annoyed her, and she knew it showed on her face as she turned her heel, regarding him out of the corner of her eye as she told him bluntly, "When next we meet... One of us shall bury the other, and prove once and for all who is truly right. I will be looking forward to it."

Dimitri said nothing, watching as she swept away with Hubert at her side, and he wondered how she could say such words with such confidence, knowing the price she would have to pay for it to happen. For them to meet meant even more had to die, and yet already she, like Raine, had buried them and moved on. He couldn't understand it, how callously she dismissed the death and pain that the war had wrought, and still think her path had been a path made for mercy. He watched her go, disappearing over the hill in her blood-red clothes, and he felt sick to his stomach with wonder, horror, and anger. More now than ever, she was a stranger to him, and more now than never he understood this madness would only end when one of them were finally dead.

Heavy, Dimitri forced himself about and back towards the camp where his fellows were preparing for the war on the morrow. He didn't want to imagine where Raine had left to in her anger, but he could well picture that she had sent everyone, friend and ally alike, running the moment she had returned. She had been right about the uselessness of the parley, which he knew he owed her apologies upon apologies for. She had done it for him and him only, after all, and he admitted that was just one more burden to bear for making her go through for his sake. He should have listened to her.

His boots felt like they were made of lead with each step he took away from the ruins of the fortress, and his body ached with exhaustion though he had done nothing more than walk to the promised place and then turned himself back for the trek to their camp. It had been futile, just as everything else had been involving her, and though his way now was clear, as was his conscience... He doubted the price that he had paid for it was worth it. Why hadn't Raine's words been enough? Why couldn't he have been content with her wisdom that nothing but hurt would be gained by treating with Edelgard? She hadn't been wrong yet... Why would this prove to be the one thing that she would be incorrect about?

"It's over, I take it?"

Though he would hate himself for the rest of his life for it, Dimitri nearly leapt out of his skin at the sudden remark from over his shoulder, and he whirled to see Warin leaning idly against a half-fallen tree not a stone's throw away from him. He had passed the older man in his quest to return to camp and never once noticed him, and Dimitri wondered just how lost in thought he had been to have missed him entirely. For his credit, Warin barely acknowledged the fact that he had clearly startled the prince, and he allowed Dimitri to regain his composure, even giving him a chance to speak first once he had put himself together enough to do so, "You... You didn't leave?"

"On the contrary. I left enough to be out of earshot, as I meant what I said about emptying my stomach if I had to listen to you lot drone on, but I didn't go far enough to be useless to you if things went sour." Warin answered with an idle shrug of his shoulders, but his navy eyes glinted with cold humour as Dimitri's brow furrowed with both confusion and concern. He shook his head slowly as he crossed his arms over his chest, and he offered Dimitri one raised eyebrow as he remarked, "It seems you still have a lot to learn, don't you, princeling? You think the laws of parley unbreakable? You think your opponent honourable enough to obey these unspoken laws, after all the crawling about in the mud she's already done? Raine left in anger... I'm not nearly as beholden to my emotions, despite how it looks. If she was to kill you, I'd have been there to aid you, before you would have died. I owe you that much courtesy, after everything."

Dimitri said nothing, unsure of how to respond, and he mused that the cold pragmatism should not have surprised him after so long. Of course Warin put no trust in such unspoken laws of noble treating... He shouldn't have, either, considering things, but he hadn't thought nearly that far enough ahead. It made much better sense now, why Warin had been steel in demanding he be permitted to join them, when no one had doubted he had a place in that parley from the beginning. He was merely standing there to watch, to wait in case a blade was drawn or an arrow fired from the shadows, because he did not trust his enemy to ever cleave to their word. "I... I suppose I owe you thanks, then..."

"You owe yourself more care. You're to lead a nation, after this pathetic excuse for a war ends... You can't be treating with every noble as if they have the same mind as you do. Your idea of chivalry will live _and_ die with you. Do you want your reign to be so short?" Warin replied bluntly, and his eyes were dark and cold, appraising him flatly and clearly finding him lacking. He pushed off from the tree, stepping forward and jerking a hand over his shoulder to gesture to those who were still walking away, unmolested and still thinking they had come away the victors, "She held her blade because she was outnumbered. You heard her little minion. He expected even numbers, because he expected you to be idiotic enough to think them honourable. Pragmatism, princeling. At least own a shred of it for your own life, if not for my sister's. You do intend to take her to Fhirdiad with you, when all this is over, do you not?"

The sudden question made him start, though Dimitri admittedly was not sure why. It wasn't as if he hadn't considered it. If anything, it was all he had been thinking about, since the very first time she had invited him to share her bed. He supposed it was Warin's bluntness that caught him off guard more than anything. It wasn't as if anyone else in his life had the brass to look him in the eye and speak so bluntly. They were too bound by decorum or friendship or plain old fright to ever delve into his private life. Warin had no such compunctions. Still, Dimitri turned his head slightly, hands clenching automatically at his side as he corrected him quietly, "There's no such certainty in the future... I have not... and will not... ask Raine to tie her life to mine."

"Don't tell me you're going to cut yourself away from her because of some half-arsed belief you'll dirty her if you tie her to you."

"It's no such thing." Dimitri snapped without thinking, his temper flaring as he turned on Warin and allowed his true emotions to shine through for a moment. They were alone, and no one would dare to come near for awhile yet. Here, at least, he could be completely honest with the only other being still living who understood Raine as well as he did. He gestured vaguely, lip curling into a scowl despite himself as he growled out despite his better judgement, "From before she even took her first breath, her life has been dictated by the actions of others. Whether it was Rhea, whether it was Jeralt, whether it again fell to the Church of Seiros, and then even underneath my own boot... Time and time again, she's been denied everything, even the basic freedom to make a simple choice of her own will. When this war ends, when Thales is put in the ground and she removes her mantle to return it to Rhea, for the first time ever will she be free to do as she pleases. And you'd think my first act would be to put another shackle around her neck? I won't permit it, even if it is what I want. She deserves to make her own future, without any input from me."

It was Warin's turn to pause, momentarily taken aback by the ferocity dripping from Dimitri's voice and in every single word he spat out. There was a fire in his eye, a fire that no amount of insult from him, or threat from Edelgard, could ever dare to light. He was honestly surprised, both by the words and the tone, and he made no effort to keep the emotions from reaching his face. He tilted his head to the side, gazing at Dimitri both thoughtfully and with almost appreciative eyes as he remarked slowly, "Out of every response you could have given me, that was the least expected one... and I may have just grown a higher opinion of you for it."

Dimitri said nothing, both unsure of how to reply to such an oddly delivered compliment, as well as the speculative look in Warin's eyes as he surveyed him closely. He wasn't entirely sure why it seemed to surprise the older man so much, as he was well aware that he, too, had to know it was all true. Even if he disagreed that Jeralt had contained them, there was no doubt whatsoever that the lives they had lived thus far had not truly been their own. All of the decisions they could have made had been made by others, and continued to be made by others. Their freedom was an illusion, and had been ever since they had been born inside the halls of the monastery. "What she deserves more than anything, after the end of all this... is a path she can carve forward of her own will and want. I won't make her choose me, just because it's what I want her to choose. And even putting the suggestion in her mind is too much. I want her to make a choice she wants to make for her own future, irregardless of my own happiness. Anything else would be selfishness, and I won't force myself on her."

"That's respectable of you, princeling, but you forget that unless you speak up, she won't know what to choose at all. She needs to be well-informed in order to make a choice, don't you think?" Warin pointed out, but his voice wasn't sharp nor cold as he corrected him. Rather, it was almost amused, almost warm, which was something Dimitri had never once heard even remotely directed at him since his days studying in the monastery, rather than fighting from it. The older mercenary ran a hand through his hair, his lips curled into a crooked sort of smile as he mused, "Leaving her in your hands won't be so bitter, if you're already this ferociously protective of her freedoms... I'll be almost relieved when the time comes for us to part, knowing you won't chain her as others have. You've grown, and I'm beginning to understand what it is that drew her to you. I still have yet to forgive you, but that's a burden for me to bear awhile longer. Keep your neck safe, and perhaps a day will come when I can call you family without too much of a grimace."

"Y-You speak as if she'd take me... The future isn't so nearly set in stone." Dimitri shook his head, his ears beginning to burn despite themselves at the candid way Warin spoke, and how easily he said words he could never have imagined leaving his lips. It was strange, conversing with Raine's brother like this, as the last time they had spoke had been bitter and cold and far too close to violence for his liking. While Warin had given tacit approval, he hadn't exactly made an effort to welcome him, and Dimitri had known it was his right, and had said nothing. There was nothing for him to say, and he would prefer to work quietly, tirelessly, earning back Warin's approval bit by bit, rather than demanding to know what he could do to prove himself. "I've done nothing and offered her nothing."

"In words, maybe. In actions? It's obvious. You don't need to make a declaration. Raine may not be putting her thoughts to it because there's too much else on her plate to even imagine a future without war, but she'll turn to it eventually. And I can promise you that no future she'll envision will involve separating herself from you." Warin answered with an idle shrug, and he straightened his back as he carefully examined the uncomfortable expression on Dimitri's face. He didn't like this topic of discussion, even less having it with him, but Warin gave it no mind. It didn't much matter, in the grand scheme of things, and he said so as he turned his heel back in the direction of the camp, "I'm just glad you're finally remembering your promise, if you want the truth of it. I feel far more able to fight, knowing that my sister has someone to turn to, somewhere to call home, if I'm to be lost in this battle. Even moreso if I'm not, and our paths diverge naturally. She deserves a home. A family. Some peace, for once. You can give her that."

Dimitri stood rooted in place, unable to move or speak as Warin walked off calmly, casually, with all that he had wanted to say hanging in the air between them. His head suddenly ached, remembering a quieter time ages and ages ago, when he had stood at the door to his professor's room and heard her brother make him promise to take care of her should anything ever happen to him. He had forgotten such words, in the ensuing moons and years of rage and bloodlust. He had been too tied down with other vows, other pacts, that he had deemed more important... but of course, Warin would have never forgotten.

_"If something were to happen to me, Raine would be alone in this world. All she's ever known is her family. Her family, and the Blue Lions. I'd have her leave this place if I died, leave it far behind and find a home with her students in the Kingdom. With you. Be it as a mercenary, a knight, or continuing on as a professor for your future knights. I don't quite care what it is she does... so long as she's safe. You're the only person here I can trust to take care of her should anything happen to me. So I will ask you again. Will you protect my sister, if I were no longer able to do so?"_

He had hesitated, then, as a boy. Confused, torn, unsure... Now, Dimitri watched Warin's back, feeling the weight heavy on his shoulders, and yet well aware that his legs were more than capable of bearing it. There was no more doubt in his mind. That had long since been swept away, along with that dark and ugly hatred that had smothered all better sense and his ability to see beyond himself. Now, the very idea of abandoning her was alien to him. He had changed much since those days, some good, mostly bad, but still she stood beside him. The promise Warin had wrenched from him was no longer a burden, but something he wished to take up of his own will.

Dimitri let out a quiet breath, and his temples pulsed with the whisper of a headache as he looked over towards the camp where he knew Raine had disappeared into. It would be a challenge, seeking her out, and likely moreso, begging for forgiveness and taking her well-deserved ire... but he did not mind. He straightened his spine, hands curling into fists at his side as he mused there was no time to hesitate. She deserved his support, after she had given him hers... and more than that, he was aching for her, her smile, her kindness, and that tender look in her eyes that soothed those old, sharp hurts and gave him hope for a future he had once never dared to believe in.

' _She'd_ call it weakness, but... I no longer care... I need her. More and more each day, I need her. I cannot stand on my own two feet any longer under my own power... and that is a life I can be happy with. Her lack of understanding that... doesn't make it any less real.' Dimitri mused quietly to himself as he began to follow Warin's trail, stride long and purposeful as he took in the harsh words that had been exchanged behind him, and discarded them. He understood now where they stood, the fact that their paths were never capable of reconciling, but he had been prepared for it. He could accept it and move on, it was not as if he had any other choice, but he would not let her stymie his progress. This war would end, even if it would be in bloodshed... but it would not rob him of his ideals, his beliefs, or her. 'Never again... Never again will I lose her... Not to this war, not to Edelgard... Not to anything. Never again.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> -runs across the screen screaming with my hair on fire, holding the document (which is also on fire), exeunt, pursued by bear-
> 
> Mood: Not Having It.
> 
> Listening To: Supernova - Within Temptation
> 
> ~ Sky


	26. Bloody Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: War, Angst, Friendship, Family, Death. (M)
> 
> Characters: Mercedes, Felix, Annette, Dedue, Warin, Shamir, Hubert.
> 
> Summary: It was the first chapter of the end, the first strike of the last battle of the war the Empire had begun so many years before. Familiar faces dotted the hastily rebuilt and restructured streets of Enbarr, and it was with grim determination that the forces of the rebellion would put them down into their graves. The time for parley, for mercy, was over. There was nothing but death ahead now. Death either for themselves, or for their enemy. The line had gone thin, the black and white margins had been firmly drawn, and before the next dawn, blood would sink deep into the capital's soil in testament to the soldiers who fought, the soldiers who defended, and those who yielded their lives to the other.

**Verdant Rain Moon**

**Streets of Enbarr**

**Morning**

_"Come, come, Emile! We'll make flower crowns for Mother!"_

_Laughter echoed in the gardens, and a small, chubby hand clung so tightly to her own that Mercedes wondered if she would lose feeling in her fingers. But he was smiling up at her so freely, with such cherub-like sweetness, that the little bit of discomfort was of no mind to her. He was so clumsy, stumbling against her legs as they raced together towards the flowers, and no matter what he did or slow he worked, the daisy chains they were building always came apart in his lap. He didn't cry, however, merely puckered his lips in a stubborn little frown and picked up his mess of a work to try and try again. He wanted to help, he insisted. He wanted to be like her, matching her effortless ease so that when she gave her finished project to their mother, he would be able to give his own to her._

_She had laughed and hugged him, then, delighted with his thoughtfulness, and her heart aching with love. Her sweet, adorable half-brother, who saw the world in her hands, and wanted nothing more than her praise and her hugs whenever he was near. She had loved him from the start, and had become fierce in her desire to protect and care for him, and to see his happiness was everything. Even if it meant chains upon chains of ripped up daisies in his clumsy little hands as she instructed him over and over again how to treat the delicate blossoms the way she did... She didn't mind much. The afternoon could wane to nightfall, and she would carry him home on her back when he grew too sleepy to continue, but would be too stubborn to quit even if his head was drooping onto his chest._

_He had such kind hands. Hands that would one day grow strong and protective when he became an adult, but for now were chubby and clumsy and soft whenever they clung to hers, or her dress, or sometimes even her hair when he was in a particularly diabolical mood. She knew he would grow up wise and strong, like a knight in those books he adored so much, and she was happy and proud of him for his innocent dreams. He was a good boy, a sweet, kind boy, and she never once had feared or fretted over him. Why would there be a reason to? When he looked up at her, his heart shining in the eyes she, he, and their mother all shared, and called her name with such angelic sweetness?_

_No, those hands would never do harm. She had no reason to be afraid... No reason to fear for him. She was his elder sister, and she would protect him to the end of her days. Even when he was older, even when he became stronger, as she knew he one day would, she would always remain his caretaker. She was the eldest, and she was more stubborn than him, to boot. It didn't matter if one day he would be able to carry her home rather than the other way around... because she would always be able to smile at him, call his name, and make sure he remembered he was safe, safe and loved and protected, because she would be there for him no matter what._

The world was churning, and Mercedes was struggling as one powerful hand clutched her throat and lifted her off her feet and from the ground with the ease of plucking a flower from the earth. Strong hands. Familiar hands... Deadly hands. She clutched at his fingers, desperately trying to pry them from her neck, but she was little more than a fly batting itself uselessly against the flank of a stallion. He squeezed, so effortlessly, and black began to creep into the edges of her vision that was otherwise occupied by the skull-like helmet that hid that familiar face, those like-coloured eyes, and the long, golden hair they had shared and giggled over in their youth.

He was killing her. Slowly, painfully, and she couldn't do a single thing to stop him. He hadn't even needed his weapon to do so, even though he held it freely in his other hand. With one hand, with just five fingers, he had lifted her clear from the ground, leaving her feet to kick uselessly in the air, and began to throttle her. All the magic she possessed hadn't been capable of keeping him at bay, and it wasn't as if she had been trying to hurt him. She couldn't. Under the mask, under his fearsome title, her sweet, innocent little brother was still in there, and no matter her training, no matter how strong her magic... She couldn't hurt him by choice. Her will had faltered at the sight of him, her magic spluttering into useless sparks at her fingertips, and he hadn't showed such hesitation or mercy, just as he had promised he wouldn't when they had last met so close to Garreg Mach.

"E... mile..." Mercedes choked out through a rapidly closing windpipe, but there was no reaction. The strength in his hand did not lessen, nor did the calm application of pressure about her throat. Her limbs were cold, and though she was staring at him, it seemed like the world about him was turning askew on its axis. Those glaring crimson eyes through the slits in his helmet seemed cold, like drops of frozen blood on slow, and she wondered what had happened to him, what she had allowed to happen, when they had parted so many years ago. Was this her punishment for it, then? The grand reaping due to her sins of failing to protect her brother? If so, why was she struggling?

Hadn't she resigned herself to this fate? To the flames, to the cold embrace of a punishing death, because no matter what good she did in the world, she could not erase the fact that she had failed him? She couldn't balance the scales, no matter how many people she aided in his stead, because she had broken her promise to _him_ , and that was what the Goddess would judge her for when her time came due. She had thought she had accepted that, in the worst moments of pain and heartbreak and self-loathing, and yet still she kept trying to pry his fingers away with her fading strength. Her legs kicked uselessly but desperately, trying to find ground, trying to put distance between them, and a cold, detached part of her mind wondered at her struggle.

No help was coming. She had broken away from her ranks, had sought him out alone, because she had been determined to end this feud between them herself. No one knew where she was in the chaos of this attack, and by the time they realized, by the time they found her, she would be a cold, broken corpse for them to mourn over. The Death Knight was not capable of being stopped by someone like her, a healer, never a fighter, but she had gone ahead anyway despite so many promises she had made not to be so foolish. He was her brother. Even if all sense was gone from him, even if she did not recognize him any longer, he was her brother and she had to be the one to settle things... even if it resulted in her death.

Her fingers were cold, and her head was feeling light despite the pain in her throat. Flickers of memory were playing through her mind, like far away flashes of lightning through heavy cloud cover. Images of Annette smiling, greeting her with enthusiastic delight on the first day of classes in the school of magic, and promising to be her friend in the sea of strangers that surrounded them. Their laughter in the late nights, huddled under blankets and sharing sweets and stories of home and their daily doings, making promises and plans for their days off, for the future together in the Officer's Academy. That ugly fighting of misunderstood priorities and failure of communication, and the tender embrace they had shared when their professor had been thought lost, and such petty arguing mattered so little in the face of their grief.

Pictures of her classmates flickered through her kind, more rapid chain lightning in the distant storm, and her dizziness grew with each smiling face she pictured. Ashe smiling as he corrected her cooking, always patient, always sweet, as he showed her the best ways to recognize the spices she so frequently mistook for others. Petra and Raphael exclaiming with delight at the foreign sweets of Faerghus she had baked especially for them as a welcome to the Blue Lions, and their happy smiles when they had thanked her profusely for such a warm and unwavering welcome. Ingrid's exasperated laughter as she was dragged, arm in arm with her and Annette through the market, searching for the perfect make-up she so stubbornly refused to need for the ball. Dedue's quiet, firm guidance, instructing her on the lost deities of his people, and the ways of his fallen brothers and sisters that he had thought would die with him before Duscur would ever see a rebirth. Flayn joining her over and over again in the chapel, praying with her in silence for the peace that they both knew would never come without bloodshed, but still offering their hopes to the Goddess because it was all they were capable of doing. Dimitri's quiet, intense stare as he followed her needlework, believing his hands too strong and too clumsy to mimic it, but enjoying the lesson nonetheless because he envied her skill, and praised her endlessly for it. Sylvain laughing, holding her shoulders and using her body as a shield to escape Felix's wrath, once again trying to evade his best friend and actually succeeding because all of them knew Felix would never use force to get to him if it she was involved.

'Oh... Felix... I'll never see Felix again, will I?'

A current of pain shocked its way up her spine, bringing a moment of frantic clarity as the realization that her death here meant she would never again lay her eyes on Felix hit her with the brute force of a broad-axe. She would die here, leaving Felix to find her corpse, and what would be left for him after? A lonely cold life leading his father's territory alone, constantly hounded by the ghost of the promises she had whispered in his ear? Could she let go so easily, with the knowledge that she would be giving him something to mourn, rather than the healing she so desperately knew he needed? How many nights had they stolen away since that day after he had caught her speaking with Rodrigue, when he had convinced her to lay down her fears and shields, and just be selfish for a little while? She had yearned for those moments, dreamt of being able to be free and vulnerable with him if no one else, and she had taken such comfort in him, just as she knew he had in her.

"Let... go...!" Adrenaline fought the shadow, fought the weakness, and though the words were croaked and had little strength behind them... Mercedes renewed her struggle all the same. It would be fine, one day, long into the future, when old age came to claim her. Then, at least, she could go to her punishment with her head held high, because at least with a full life she could give Felix the strength to continue on without her. Leaving him now, so soon, with so much unsaid and undone... It wasn't permitted. She wouldn't add his pain to the list of sins she was willing to consign her to the flames. It wasn't allowed. It just wasn't.

"It will end soon enough... Stop struggling. Allow it to be. Or must I break your neck to make it quicker?" The hand tightened as the reply came through tightly clenched teeth, growled with all the ferocity of an animal as she kicked and clawed anew at him. Her nails were useless against the armour of his gauntlets, and his reach was far too long for her legs to get any purchase on either the ground, or him. He hoisted her higher in response, showing both his strength and allowing for gravity to put all the more pressure on her neck as he held her, and she groaned in agony even as she continued to struggle vainly. She would not win. He would not permit it, and she simply lacked the strength to beat him off. It was that simple.

"MERCEDES!"

A shriek of wind buffeted her from behind, blowing the Death Knight clean from his feet with the sheer force of the magical blast. It hit her directly, too, but as they both fell, the hand around her throat released, and she coughed and wheezed as air rushed through her bruised and swollen windpipe to reach her aching lungs. Sudden noises of violence surrounded her, blocking out even the own sound of her heartbeat, and she was only distantly aware of being tugged and pulled away, both from the ground and from the grasping reach of her brother, who roared in fury and pain as he was beset as if by lions.

Though the world was dim, Mercedes could still see the backs of her heroes far and away from her, standing side by side and trembling with wrath and rage as they met the Death Knight head-on. Dedue had inserted himself in first, a behemoth crashing against the mountain that was the Death Knight, and pushing as he may, that wicked scythe could not find purchase against the man of Duscur's silver axe. Annette stood behind him, pushing him back with her magic, and slinging spell after spell with ease each time Dedue slid to the side to give her the opening she needed to strike without putting him in harm's way. They were so practised, even after five long years apart, and they moved like silk in the river despite the violence of magic and axe and scythe all screeching against each other for dominance.

Then there was lighting, and for a brief, mad moment, Mercedes could not tell if it was true magic, or just the fury as Felix leapt in when Dedue stepped away. His sword flashed crimson, and his opponent roared again, spinning to meet him even as ribbons of blood sprayed from the wound in his shoulder. She could not see his face, neither of them, but she could well imagine the looks of rage. Felix was a wraith, moving like the wind Annette so expertly manipulated, and wherever he was, Dedue was behind him, and sword and axe hammered away as the Death Knight drew back, unable to withstand their combined assault no matter how he planted his feet.

From the ground, Mercedes could only watch with distant horror as her dear friends stood resolute and ferocious between her and her brother. Annette was one with the whirlwind she created, her tangerine hair whipping about her like flags in a storm, and her voice was a shout of rage that was so unlike that sweetly singing laugh she had grown so used to. Dedue was a stone, crashing over and over again again his mountain of an opponent, and each time axe met scythe, it sounded like a thunderclap as their great strength met and refused to give to one another's. Felix took full advantage of this, using his speed to dart about both the spells and the axe of his fellows, and his sword sought every weakness in his enemy's armour until it was painted crimson with his blood.

It felt like an eternity, watching the fighting, watching the way the Death Knight's blows began to slow, and then to falter. Dedue began to strike harder, and the great scythe could no longer parry his blows. Felix seemed to disappear about him, his sword now fully coated in gore, and Annette held her ground behind the two of them, hands raised and wind only releasing itself sparingly now as she understood she was not needed to create more openings. The two men before her were more than enough, had done enough damage to crack open his armour and pierce through his great, fearsome strength, and he would not survive to escape them again.

A spray of blood shot into the air as Felix's blade found its target, and there was a moment of silence as the Death Knight stepped forward, arm outstretched and his gaze far beyond them. Even from where she lay, half-clinging to consciousness, Mercedes could feel his stare piercing her through. Her fingers twitched at her side, wishing to reach, to comfort, but she had no strength to move them properly. She could only stare at him, watching as Dedue coldly slammed his axe into his chest, shattering the armour, the helmet, and laying him out flat on the ground with merciless precision. He would not escape them a fifth time, and he crumpled to the ground, his helmet cracking open to reveal the gaping crimson wound in his throat... He fell on his back, breaths coming ragged and choked and gurgled, before he stilled and fell prey for the shadow he had encased himself in the moment he had taken on the moniker of the end.

Tears clouded her vision, and Mercedes found herself broken as she tried to pray for him even as she heard footsteps rapidly returning to where she had been dragged away from the fighting. Strong hands lifted her, and her head was laid gently in a warm lap, and she heard Annette speaking tersely somewhere above her. A gentle hand rested on her throat, throbbing with strong magical energy, and she could hear Dedue answering some fervently spoken command, as well as the rummaging sound of a hand tossing aside items in a rucksack somewhere to her left, and opposite of where Dedue was standing by her.

More hands grasped her chin, these ones more firm than the hand she knew Annette was using to try and stem the damage from furthering in her throat. A callused thumb brushed her lower lip, pulling her mouth open, and she didn't fight it as a glass container was pressed to her lips and emptied inside. Her body winced automatically from the extremely bitter taste of the elixir, but the gloved hands on her face didn't permit her to move very far. They held her tightly, ensuring every last drop was poured down into her mouth, and Annette's fingers moved with gentle encouragement along her windpipe, urging her to swallow.

She did, unwillingly and unhappily, and immediately the enchanted concoction began its work as it met her battered throat and the magic Annette was pouring into her from the outside. Her entire neck became numb, and a soothing sort of cold spread down into her chest, ensuring her lungs could manage the air she so greedily needed after nearly being choked to death. Her head once again turned light, and she opened her eyes, feeling dizzy and weak, but searching all the same as the magic tugged at her consciousness. She knew well it was trying to put her to sleep, to allow her body to shut down and heal properly, but she resisted it all the same.

Annette's face was right above her own, and she was aware she was being laid down in her lap. Warm tears splashed onto her face, trickling down her best friend's reddened cheeks as she stared down at her with fright, relief, pain and concentration all at once warring in her eyes. She swallowed noisily, voice hitched as her hand softened at the sight of her friend blearily looking up at her despite it all, and she fought through her own tight throat and chest to speak, "It's going to be okay, Mercie... You're going to be okay. I've got you, all right? And Dedue and Felix are here. It's all going to be all right... Just rest. We'll get you home. I promise."

"Put her under." Felix spoke gruffly from her right, and her eyes flickered to look at him and see the blood speckled all over his clothes and even on his face. He was watching her with quietly simmering eyes, and his sword was still unsheathed and held tightly in his trembling right hand. He didn't reach out despite his body's obvious yearnings to do so, respecting Annette's work and clearly afraid that anything he might do would interrupt it, and his hand closed more tightly on the hilt of his blade as he repeated almost angrily, "Can't you just knock her out?"

"She's fighting me, Felix." Annette answered painfully, and she carefully, tenderly, settled her left hand on top of her right to better focus her magical energies. She could understand Mercedes' unwillingness to let the magic rob her consciousness, especially considering what had just happened, but there was no time for her to be sympathetic. The war for Enbarr was raging, and even their little number in the corner of the city would not stay unmolested forever. Her friend needed to be taken back to the rear lines, off of the battlefield and safely tucked away with the real healers. Staying here put them all at risk. They couldn't fight against a retinue of soldiers freely while she was so badly injured. She leaned down, protectively huddling over her friend's face as she reassured her weakly, "Please, Mercie... Go to sleep. I know it hurts... but you need to heal... There could be permanent damage if you don't let me help you."

"Annette." Dedue's voice was quiet, comforting, but still firm as he knelt down next to her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She looked to the taller man sharply, taking in that strong, unyielding expression that only ever seemed to soften when she, or his liege, were concerned. He squeezed gently, his strong fingers applying only the smallest amount of pressure in a sign of comfort, and she understood at once what he wanted to say, and what he was choosing not to in present company. He nodded to Felix without ever breaking eye-contact, and spoke in that same level-headed tone, "We must continue. His Highness and the Professor need us to push forward."

"Then go. I'll take her to the rear." Felix didn't allow for any further argument, and with cool, calculating hands he swept Mercedes up from the ground and into his arms in a smooth, fluid movement. She groaned softly as he adjusted his hold, bracing her against his chest, and even that small sound was hoarse and croaked. He looked to Annette and Dedue, expression both all at once boiling over and yet frozen in stone, and he spoke roughly and harshly, "Go on and finish what we started. I'll be behind you once I get her somewhere safe. Don't bite off more than you can chew in the meantime. I'm not about to be the one to tell her that you idiots got yourself killed while she was sleeping off her wounds away from the frontlines."

If there were replies to be made, Felix did not have the patience to remain to listen to them. Mercedes' weight in his arms was familiar, but he found no comfort from it as he felt her ragged breathing on his neck. Every inhale seemed to be a struggle for her, and though her body was limp, he could tell she still was refusing with all her will to slip unconscious. Despite that, he was well aware she was not truly lucid. Her hands did not grip at him as he ran through the streets taking long roads back towards the entrance of the city to avoid the ferocious fighting that was filling the capital. The last thing he needed and wanted was to have to put her down again and leave her helpless, and though he was confident in his swordplay, it was something altogether different when he needed to put his blade between another and an enemy, and not just himself.

For once, Felix found himself avoiding every avenue he could think of that would lead him into a fight, and he gritted his teeth tightly as his arms clasped all the more protectively about the precious burden in his arms. She felt so weak, and even more unresponsive to him. Even when he had been forced to take her away from the infirmary after she had fallen asleep from her long hours attending to their unconscious professor, she had felt more alive then than she did now. Even in sleep, she would recognize his warmth and snuggle towards it, murmuring nonsense as she pressed herself happily into his chest. Now, she was simply still, her body only moving with his own every time he took a step, and his teeth gritted down in a furious scowl.

"Why did you do something so _stupid_...? You knew where he was. You knew we would have helped. Did you think you had to handle it all by yourself just because he was your brother? Did you want his blood to be solely on your hands?" The questions came out in a harsh snarl as he ran for the rear lines, and though he knew he would get no answer, some feral part of him was glad to be putting words to the emotions that had roared up within him when he had realized why Mercedes had slipped away from them. It had been with horror and wrath he had responded with when he had seen the Death Knight, her little half-brother, strangling the life from her, and he knew full well she had to know she was walking to her death by meeting him alone. She was no soldier, even if she was a talented mage. She simply didn't have it in her to just take lives, unless it was in her own defence, or the defence of those she loved.

His molars cracked as he applied more pressure, and his arms tightened even further about his precious burden as he felt her failure to respond. Annette's magic had done its work, putting her to sleep as her own injury and weakness overwhelmed her. It was a small mercy, a bitter mercy, but he was glad for it all the same under his wrath. He glanced down at her for a moment, taking in those ugly, quickly darkening bruises that made for a disgusting necklace about her pale throat, and bile rose in his own as he muttered darkly, "I won't apologize for what I did... but when you wake up, you can be as furious with me as you want... Leave me if you want to, I won't argue. If you find it unforgivable, that's fine. So long as you survive. Do you hear me? Survive. I won't ask for anything else but that from you. Annette and the mongrel can take care of you if you're through with me after all of this. Just wake up again when this is all over, damn you!"

The rear lines were in sight, and Felix easily picked out the sight of Rodrigue astride his stallion, calling out orders to the healers and soldiers that were taking the wounded from the field and giving them protection behind the rearguard. His professor had left strict orders for him and Gilbert, to permit every civilian access to their protection and their skills as the madness of war descended upon their homes. And even from a distance, Felix could see that a good handful of men, women, and children had taken her up on her offer. They were fleeing the violence behind them, desperate to escape the flames that were burning their homes down from the indiscriminate attacks of the Imperial army.

His professor had been right in assuming that the Empire would make their citizens into shields, and unlike the taking of Fhirdiad, the men and women under the yoke of the Emperor had been too struck with fear to rebel. They knew full well that their own army would slaughter them wholesale if they picked up arms against them to join the rebellion, and even if they did not, the dark-robes that were amassed among them certainly would. He had seen the carnage himself already, helpless and unarmed civilians, cut down because they had chosen flight rather than standing as shields for the shadowy monsters the Empire had chosen as their allies. He wasn't entirely sure if he was more disgusted or angry by it, even though he had thought himself well prepared for the battle to come. His professor had warned them this fight would be more than anything they had fought thus far... and she had never been wrong yet.

Felix cruelly shoved away all thoughts as he pushed himself through the guards and towards Rodrigue, and for his credit, the moment his father saw him he checked his steed and leapt off of it in his rush to get to his side. His face was worn, and blood had speckled the front of his cloak and had almost entirely stained his gloves crimson. He was both a knight and a healer, and it was obvious that he was dividing his duties equally between his magic and the fighting. He supposed it was not all that different from the path he had chosen himself, tempering his sword with the lightning magic that he had discovered himself to be so adept with, but he was well aware the arts of healing were far beyond his ken. He had hardened his heart too much for it.

"Where is she wounded? What does she need? Tell me everything."

The terse orders, which would have once made him rankle, were a strange comfort as he picked out the nearest unoccupied space in the impromptu "infirmary", and he set the woman he had been carrying done gently back onto the stone. Healers were rushing to and fro all about them, but Rodrigue called for no one and instead knelt down next to Mercedes himself, his eyes immediately spotting the damage that had been done without needing any guidance. He pulled his gloves from his hands, tossing them idly aside before he settled his hand along the rapidly bruising throat, and his eyes narrowed as he muttered angrily under his breath, "By the flames... What happened to this poor girl? Tell me the dastard responsible for this is already laying cold, or soon will be."

"He's dead, but there's no pleasure to be taken in it. It was her brother who did it. And she'll remember that when she recovers." Felix replied brusquely, watching the surprise pass over his father's face before his expression once again become cold and stern. It was not a secret he shared lightly, as Mercedes had not told many, if even half a dozen people, who the Death Knight truly was. She had been too afraid to reveal the truth, too afraid to admit that she believed she was the cause of his doings, and that fear had turned to guilt, and nearly pushed her right into an early grave. "I'm leaving her here under your protection, old man. I can't stay here. There's still more my blade needs to do out there on the field."

Rodrigue looked up, both surprised, and yet not entirely so as he watched his son push himself slowly, almost tiredly, back to his feet. His eyes were simmering with that familiar rage Rodrigue had grown so used to seeing, but there was something fiercer, something stronger, in the burning. It was not the cold, pragmatic detachment that his son used to keep the cruelty of the world at bay that was driving him now. It was self-loathing and guilt, and the desire to wreak utter havoc in order to find some sort of catharsis for it. It almost startled him, how alike his son looked to the young prince who had pulled himself out of the hells of exile, but he knew he could not truly blame him. The woman laying at his knees was precious to him beyond words, and regardless of the circumstances that had led him to bring her to him... He blamed himself fully for it. "Felix..."

"Don't argue with me. You want to see the Fraldarius line continue, yeah? Watch her. Keep her safe. Make _damned_ sure she survives this, no matter what it costs. If you don't, I'll come back and kill you myself." Felix's response was cold and sharp, hard and damning as he turned his back on his father and gripped down all the more tighter on the hilt of his bloody blade. The battle was calling, the war was still waging, and Annette and Dedue needed him. No matter what he wanted, he had to return to the fray, and he knew his father knew it just as well as he did. The words tasted like acid on his tongue, and a cold stone settled somewhere deep in his gut, but he ignored both things as he began his stride back into the mess. He had no choice but to force compliance... but to leave.

"I will be awaiting your return then, Felix. Stay safe." Rodrigue spoke quietly to his son's retreating back, and he watched him closely as he bolted back through the lines as quickly as he had broken through them. He wasn't sure if he had heard, but he supposed it did not matter as he turned his attention back to the woman at his knees. The bruising about her neck was growing darker by the second, and even as he applied his magic and watched the cool green sparks fizzle into her skin, his chest ached with pain. Once again, standing over the body of a still and injured woman, and watching the face of their loved one contorting with grief and rage, and settling for bloodshed as their only reprieve... He shook his head slowly, and his fingers were gentle as they spread across Mercedes' throat to continue his work, "May you save him from himself, milady Matritz... The Goddess will not have you yet. Not while I still have a breath of life still in me."

* * *

It was almost the same as it had been, six long years ago, and Warin was in his element as his lance went to work cutting through the lines of the advancing Imperial soldiers so that his sister's students could crash forward and push their own line farther in. Whatever the enemy had expected of them clearly hadn't been enough, and time and time again their foes would retreat in the face of the rebellion's fury, or be cut down if they didn't have the good sense to flee. There was wild fear in the eyes of the men being thrown towards them, the fear of death and the knowledge there was no escaping it, but it made their movements and attacks clumsy and easy to predict. They were torn between two terrors, that of their enemy's skill and that of their master's whips, and none had the courage to turn tail and leave the fighting entirely behind them to save their own necks.

The noose they had drawn about themselves had grown too tight for such thoughts now, and there was no room in their foes' hearts for mercy. Anyone who hadn't yet escaped now stood between them and the Emperor's castle, and if they would not give way willingly, the rebellion would carve a path through them without hesitation. Raine's orders for mercy had extended only to the smallfolk, as she had known, just as anyone else had, that the fearful and hesitant would have left long before their enemy's army came crashing down upon them.

The only ones who remained were either the loyal or the brainwashed, or those held hostage, and if they raised a weapon, there was no other recourse but to cut them down. Hesitation meant death here, and all had hardened their hearts to their tasks. The Emperor had ordered no quarter to be given to her foes, had showed no care for the civilians in her own city, and time and time again her men had used their own people as shields against the oncoming wave in a desperate attempt to gain ground, or turn the situation to their favour. Houses were burning, bodies were laying in the streets and bleeding out where they had fallen, and not a single soldier clad in either the Emperor's colours, or the dark-robes of Thales and his men, had shown an ounce of care for the mayhem.

Yet, they had not expected that their cruelty had already been accounted for. Behind every advancing arm of the rebellion's troops came garrisons of mages and archers, capable of taking out the hostage-takers without causing injury to those held against their will, and in the chaos the main fighters descended on their foes to give the smallfolk a chance to escape. Time after time the same exact strategy played out on the streets, and time after time they gained more ground and drew ever closer to the castle where the Emperor sat, giving her orders from safety as she shored up her forces for the final battle she knew would come to the very seat of her throne.

The idea made Warin snort with bitter mirth as his lance slammed into the chest of his nearest foe, punching through his thin plate-mail and deep into flesh before protruding from between his shoulders. Warin pulled, and as easily as his lance had entered it exited, twirling with scarlet ribbons as it was directed again and again for the flesh of his next foe. It seemed so ridiculously futile. They were carving up fodder, and nothing more or less. Simple men and women that had been put in front of them to delay them, to inflict whatever small wounds and losses they could, in order to give their commander the tiniest chance of an advantage at the end of it all.

From his position at the fore, Warin could catch a glimpse of the one who had been commanding the defence of the capital, and a grim smile crossed his lips at the sight of him. He had a score to settle with that black-haired sorcerer, and though his sister had cautioned him, she hadn't told him to avoid him, either. The rout of Enbarr was to be complete before anyone even so much as got within throwing distance of the castle walls, and of course several strategies had been implemented in order to see it through.

Gilbert and Rodrigue held the rear lines from where the advance had started, and with Nader and his men guarding them from further reinforcements from the outside, the companies that had dove into the city in earnest had nothing to fear as they pushed forward. They spread out like a fire, reaching into every corner and street, driving their foes into the ground or farther back in fear, and each time they mustered their courage for a counter-strike, they were met with equal ferocity. The beloved magical ballista that had only seen a handful of opening shots before they had been overtaken now worked against their creators, and it had been with grim satisfaction that the mages of the Kingdom and Alliance took the Imperial technology and unleashed it on their foes without mercy.

Three arms had extended into Enbarr, one for the east, west, and centre, and of those three arms had been even more split parties with differing goals and leaders. Raine had wasted nothing, and everyone's potential was being called upon for the maximum effect and power. Squadrons of wyvern and pegasi riders cleared out the skies, and from below their archers covered them from fire that would take them from the air as they met the Empire's aerial forces in earnest. The calvary rode forward to break the defensive lines, followed quickly by the infantry and mages, who either quenched the fires raging before them, or set their foes ablaze instead to give their men a chance to push themselves ever forward.

To the west she had left Dedue in charge and had taken the east for herself and Dimitri, and Warin had been charged with the centre. Each of them had picked out their own men to their fashion and needs, and amongst the leaders they had promised that regardless of who arrived first, their enemy commander was to be dealt with as quickly as possible. All personal grudges had to be put aside, and all of them had scars that Hubert had left them in their harsh clashes over the last year of constant warfare. All of them would relish the chance to see him in battle, but Warin mused that either his fortune was good, or he had driven his men too hard, as he was well aware it was his arm that had moved the fastest towards the castle.

"Move and surround. Tighten the lines, and don't let anyone through." The orders came smooth and swift from his lips, and he was well aware from the stares on his back and the tightening of hands on weapons that there would be no questioning of his command. He had picked his men well, after all. The knights who had grown loyal to him, the men who had once served his father, and the handful of students who, for some reason, trusted him nearly as much as they trusted his sister. He would never understand their faith, but he did not need to. He hefted his lance, fingers experimentally squeezing about the shaft as he continued in that same calm voice, "Shamir, I need you covering me. Find a good nest, and I'll do the rest for you. Everyone else, stay as far out of range as you can manage. The last thing we need is more wounded to send home. Understood?"

"Yessir!"

A part of him felt oddly detached, pulled away as the resounding choruses of affirmation hit his back and his ears, and he pushed himself forward despite the strange twisting feeling deep in his stomach. Those roars had always been for his father's orders. For his sister's. Not for his own. There was no real question that one day, far in the future, perhaps he would be the one inciting such belief and faith, but that was not meant to be now. He was still little more than his father's former lieutenant. He hadn't yet made himself into the mercenary captain he had always hoped to be. Yet, time moved forwards, and cared little for the wants of a solitary man. This was one of the ending chapters of the war... He had come far, even if his feet had yet to move away from the graves of his parents.

Warin turned himself into a battering ram as he raced forward with his men on his heels. They struck the last defensive line with the force of a lightning bolt, scattering men every which way from the sheer speed of their shove through. Warin only spared a moment for his lance to strike down the surrounding soldiers who had not lost their feet before he was continuing forward without regard to the enemies behind him. His goal was still ahead, safely tucked behind rows and rows of enemy soldiers, and he knew the rule of war better than any... He had to only cut the head from the snake to see the body collapse, and with the Emperor still holed up in the castle, Hubert was the head now waiting for the blade.

Black flames met him the moment he stepped past the ring of soldiers that had surrounded their commander, and Warin leapt forward, somersaulting away from the magic that had been sent roaring for his head the instant he came into range. It made him smile grimly, reminding him far too much of how every single battle he had ever had with the sorcerer had begun. Hubert feared a close fight, and the scar on his face was more than good enough reason for him to want to make sure his foe was dead long before he came into striking distance. If he was far and away, Hubert still had an advantage... if he could manage to keep it.

Time and time again those bursts of dark magic tried for him, and time and time again Warin dodged and wove his way about them as he circled in closer. They spluttered on the stone walkways, needing his body for fuel and finding nothing on impact, and Warin had to muse that the vast difference in skill between the mage he had fought in Derdriu and the one he was heading towards now could not be more apparent. Thales had been eager and willing to close in his true form, taking sadistic delight in unleashing his strength even if it meant unmasking himself, even if it meant risking his life to the blades of any tried and true soldier. Hubert was far more conservative, far more wary... and perhaps far more frightened.

"Filthy dog...! Have the sense to lay down and die! Today is _not_ your day!"

The roar as a jet of black flames soared harmlessly by him, a good five feet off, made Warin smirk as he bent down low into a hunter's run to clear the last few feet between the two of them. It was a strange insult, coming from him of all men, but Warin didn't much mind the snarling. It was the way of some fights, to have banter replaced with threats and angry, self-righteous speeches, but Warin had never quite been the type to partake himself. It didn't seem to matter much, when blood flowed much more clearly than words, but he would admit that his interest at the very least was piqued. He swung his lance experimentally, voice calm despite the pounding of his blood in his veins as he questioned, "Dog, is it? Have you gotten our positions mixed up in all of this fighting, perhaps? Lost both your nerves _and_ your tongue, maybe?"

The sharp twang of metal meeting metal punctuated his words, and Warin was not entirely sure if he was more surprised, or amused, to see that Hubert had met him swing for swing. In his hands was a lance of his own, though it was unlike anything Warin had ever laid his eyes on. It was absurdly top heavy for a lance, with its blade starting out as thick as a tree root before circling down into a sharp, jagged tip reminiscent of a drill rather than a weapon. The very metal was crackling, spitting sparks of magical energy, and Warin withdrew automatically with a sharp, wary glance.

"Do you like it...? Technology from our enemies. As great, or even greater than the Relics you and yours cling to for power... Even those without Crests will know might with things like these. This Arrow of Indra will help carve the path we seek." Hubert swung the lance casting an arc of lightning that followed the tip, arcing in a blue flicker as he met Warin's stare with a dismissive, loathing glare of his own. "Cling to the old ways if you will, but it won't serve you, you lowly dog... You''ll fall here, long before you reach the Emperor's throne. I won't permit you to interfere."

"Again, you call me a dog... Do you think my sister my master, because I chose to fight with her? If so, you're severely miscalculated. I have no master. No chain. Never again will anyone give me orders and expect me to blindly obey. Not for blood, or coin." Warin answered him coldly, and he felt his hand clenching tighter about the handle of his lance as he watched Hubert glaring at him as if he was the lowliest scum he could find on the bottom of his boot. It sorely amused him, and made his smile bitter and frozen as he settled his feet and changed his stance to meet the new weapon Hubert had met him with. He had not expected a lance of all things, but he was more than ready to meet him as he challenged him idly, "I won't sell myself so cheaply as you. Family loyalty is what kept you as her shadow, wasn't it? Killing at her whims, sneaking about, fighting her battles for her... If anyone here is a mindless mongrel, it isn't me. It's you, you little brat."

The lance swung, met by Warin's mid-arc, but with the sharp clang of weapon meeting weapon also came a harsh shock. Magical energy surged through the strange weapon Hubert carried, and upon touching Warin's lance it arced gracefully to deliver a powerful shock. Warin withdrew automatically and with a curse, feeling a sharp pain lancing up through his hand and arm as his fingers involuntarily tightened on the grip of his weapon. He shook his arm savagely, teeth grinding as he caught Hubert's arrogant smirk, and the raven-haired man advanced, his lance crackling with electricity as he asked him, "Does the pain clear your head now...? I sorely hope so. I've spent many a long moon devising ways to rid myself of you... At first, I did not understand my lady's wish to see you dead, but understanding means little in the way of duty. Now, however... Now, I understand what it is that makes her hate you so. It was you, after all, that she wished would join her cause... You, better than anyone, who understood what she wished to see done to this world. But you were too different. Too aloof. Too much of a threat."

"Should I be honoured?" The reply came as the same time as his lance, though this time Warin was careful not to allow contact as he swung. Hubert dodged him gamely, attempting to block the blow, but Warin's weapon was an extension of his arm and not a shield, and it took little effort for him to change his trajectory to avoid coming into contact with the electrically charged lance the mage was wielding. Hubert circled him warily, eyes gauging him with that same hawk-like keenness, but Warin showed no weakness or hesitation. He stabbed out again, dodging the returning strike with a jerk of his shoulder and twisting his blade to the side as he did so. The edge of his weapon scored a blow, tearing through the thin black leather the mage wore for armour and opening up a long wound on his forearm.

Hubert staggered back as blood began to flow, but his face registered no pain. Rather, there was a coldly simmering fury in his sharp eyes, and his other hand tightened on the handle of his lance. The magic running throughout the weapon answered his call, the sparks glittering like golden flickers all along the blade and about his hand, and the shadows they cast danced across the sorcerer's face. His jaw was tight as his sleeve quickly became damp, and he forced his other hand onto his lance despite the sharp stab of pain in his torn muscles. "You should be... Already you live in the world she wishes to create for the masses, and yet you do not know it. Alone and aloof, you climbed the stairway of power until none about you could deny you, even though you have no lineage to support it. A ragged mercenary, found wading through the mud of warfare and at the clink of coin, now standing shoulder to shoulder with nobility and commanders of great renown and skill... Yet you see no righteousness in the cause my lady fights for."

"Why should I? I climbed my path without using a mountain of innocent corpses to get me to where I am. The only bodies under me are those who were sent after me, or tried to harm those I love. I've no need for bloody wars or petty politics to rationalize the path I choose to follow." Warin returned sharply, and this time when Hubert swung, he met his challenge head-on. The magic struck him with the power of a hammer on an anvil, feeling as if he had taken a heavy blow to the chest as the tips of their weapons connected, but he did not yield. His hands once again grasped helplessly, tightening on his weapon and making him unable to let go, but he didn't mind. He shoved forward viciously, forcing Hubert to give ground, and he snarled as his brute strength easily overpowered that of the thin man before him, "There's no righteousness in forcing the world to change to suit your view of it... No righteousness in pairing with monsters in order to free the world of their influence. You revealed yourselves too late. Thales won't die by your hand. That right belongs to me. But you... You, I'll take first, because I'm sick of your blathering. Your princess can come after."

"Impertinence!" The current grew stronger in tandem with Hubert's anger, and Warin's teeth ground down audibly as the magic weakened his arms and legs. A harsh numbness was spreading as the electricity crackled over his skin from where their weapons met and struggled against one another's, and this gave Hubert the opening he was sorely seeking. Now he pushed back, gaining the advantage, and his eyes shone with wrath as Warin's knees gave and forced him down, "For all your so-called knowledge, you truly understand nothing. The devilry of those who slither in the dark cannot be undone by the likes of you. Attempt to strike them down, and a horror you cannot even begin to fathom will rise in return. But I will spare you that. This is a mercy. You should be grateful."

"You're... still too slow..."

A sharp whistling punctuated Warin's insult, and Hubert staggered back as the arrow that had been shot from far behind buried itself in his shoulder before he could swing and plunge his lance into the open chest of his foe. In a flash Warin was back on his feet, the grimace of pain he had been wearing wiped away to show a cold mask of fury instead, and as Hubert hit the ground from the force of the sniper's arrow, he understood his error. Again, Warin had proven not to be underestimated, and this time he was not alone to face him as he had been before. The way of victory was closed to him... Permanently, this time.

A harsh kick sent the magical lance from his hand skittering across the ground, but Hubert no longer had the strength to try and tighten his hand and keep his hold. He reached across his chest, fingers twitching as they struggled to grasp the arrow that had pierced deep into his shoulder and then passed on through. It had been accurately shot, fatally so, and he could feel his blood beginning to seep out onto the cold stone below him. Yet there was no fear in him even as Warin knelt down over him, his bladed gauntlet coming to rest on his throat, and Hubert stared back up at the face of his sorely-hated foe with a grim smile curling at his bloody lips. The taste of copper was familiar on his tongue, bringing back bitter memories and even more hated faces, but he felt nothing even as those cold navy eyes stared at him from above. From the moment he had sworn his loyalty... He had been prepared for this fate.

Warin's arm came down in one smooth movement, and the blades he wore sliced through flesh as easily as a hot knife would through warm butter. There was no need, or desire, for last words. That cold, hateful stare said all there needed to be said... and he didn't care for the last gasps of a dying man. He watched passively as the blood ran freely from the cut jugular, staining the front of the twitching sorcerer's robes a brilliant shade of crimson, and slowly, carefully, Warin regained his feet. His eyes didn't leave his enemy's, watching as the light dimmed within them, and only when they fully went out did he dare step back and away from the corpse below him.

Warin shook his arm, scattering droplets of blood across the stone from his weapon, and he glanced up and towards the castle that stood across the bridge. It coldly stared back at him, hiding the puppet and perhaps maybe its master, and his fingers clenched as he fought the urge to continue onwards and inside, all ideas of a respite, or a chance to consolidate his men be damned. The bloodlust was alight in him, demanding sating, and only a harsh and cold pragmatism allowed him to shove it back down. As he was, with the men as his back, he would hardly be capable of breaching the gates. He would need his sister, her students, and the remaining forces of the rebellion to hope to take that damned building and put an end to the fighting, and alone he had no strength to do it.

"Don't ever make me watch that again, even if it was good theatre. That came _far_ too close for my liking."

The curt, clipped scolding came sharply from behind him, as keen as the arrow she had fired when he had dropped to his knees to give her the sight of her target, but Warin felt his lips quirk despite themselves at the sound of her voice. He gave himself a moment to wipe his blades clean before he retracted them back into his gauntlets, and he turned to see Shamir well ahead of the rest of their forces, likely having abandoned her nest almost the moment after she had fired her arrow and come running to meet him. She looked breathless even though her eyes were glinting with ill-humour, and at the sight of him, they narrowed as she muttered under her breath, "Must you always be so reckless?"

"I knew you had my back. You've never failed to have it before." Warin replied easily, but the unamused scowl on her lips proved any type of humour wasn't appreciated. He didn't mind it, and caring about little else even as he heard the sound of footsteps on the stone far away, he reached for her waist and tugged her close to him. He felt her start, obviously confused and alarmed at the action they never permitted in open view, on or off the battlefield, but Warin gave no mind to it. His free hand reached for her chin, angling it upwards before he leaned down and covered her mouth with his own. She froze against him, startled, but he only allowed it to last for a moment before he was sighing against her cheek, "I love you."

"And you're lucky I love you, or else I would never let you get away with a quarter of what you've been up to today..." Shamir muttered sourly, but there was no hiding the smile was that curling the corners of her mouth as she relaxed in Warin's tight hold. His arms were strong and careful as they wrapped snugly about her, and though there was still tension in his every muscle, there was no hint of even a shiver in him. She could feel his relief, palpable and as warm as the campfire they had sat silently beside together only the previous night, and it allowed her to forget herself, too. All the men they had taken with them suspected, and it no longer mattered if they knew. For the moment, it was over... For the moment, they could finally put down their weapons and take a breath. They had made it through, despite all the odds, despite the many who had not, and it wasn't a sin to feel relief, and celebrate that tiny miracle. "Come on... A healer needs to take a look at you, and then we can wait for the others."

"A minute longer." Warin echoed her words in Fhirdiad, and he tightened his hold slightly to keep her snugly trapped against his chest. To his eternal gratitude she didn't fight him, but instead merely stood quiet and willing, leaning into him, and he sighed against her ear again. His eyes glanced over her shoulder, looking to that lance again and wondering at all it meant before he roughly cast it from his mind. He would take time later to asses it, to ruminate on the last lingering threats ahead of him, but for the moment... He wanted to fill his arms, his senses, with her and forget all else as the chaos of battle dulled to an echo, and finally into silence.

For the first time since that early dawn, the streets of Enbarr were finally silent. The clashing of weapons, the screaming of the injured and fallen and fleeing, and the roar of flames had all faded away. The capital had been taken. Warin was unsure of how many lay dead, theirs and their enemies, but he mused that it was still too early to begin to take count. It was only the first step, and only when the head of the Emperor lay cold on the ground would he dare to think that any sort of victory had been achieved in Andrestia. Then there would be Thales to follow, with Rhea after... but Warin shook his head and crossed his wrists behind Shamir's back as he squeezed her closer.

No, it didn't matter. Not yet. She was there with him, and he could feel the peace running warm and calm in his veins. His sister likewise had escaped this hell unscathed, and he didn't need anything else to tell him it was all right for him to breathe. The day wasn't over, not yet, but the moment could last for a little while longer. He was surprised by how much he needed it, how unafraid he was of taking it, but he supposed that was simply the way of it now. More than anything, he wanted to survive this mess, and to see the woman in his arms come out of it safely, too. And it made him ache, deep and sharp and dear in his chest as he muttered again into her ear as he felt her hands gently stroking his back as she returned his embrace, "I love you."

"And I you." Shamir answered quietly, closing her eyes as she pressed herself comfortably against his chest and delivered a calm, reassuring squeeze about him. That feral fear, the concern and wanting and selfishness was something she knew well, and she didn't mind whatsoever in the breaking of their firmly set rules. They were nothing in comparison to the hellscape they had just travelled through, and the awaiting flames that were beckoning threateningly from the castle behind them. But that, too, could wait. Just for the moment. One moment of peace amidst the bloodshed, the corpses and the horror and the resignation of more fighting could be allowed. Her arms tightened and she nestled in closer, sighing in defeat as she felt his strong hands bracing her comfortingly, and she murmured into his shoulder again, "And I you..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Fight scenes. Just... so many fight scenes. -face/desk-
> 
> I'm lacking in so much energy, but I'm working my way through it, one tiny bit by bit. There's just still so much ahead, even though it doesn't look like it. And as eager as I am to get to it, I gotta do it chronologically, or else little will make sense... but I don't wanna do more fight scenes! I do admit however, I feel I am improving each time I write action, though how much I am improving I can't honestly say. I guess I just can admit that once this is all neatly finished and wrapped in a bow, I'm probably gonna go collapse in a corner and let my muse go on whatever vacation she wants!
> 
> Mood: Sleepy.
> 
> Listening To: "And We Run" - Within Temptation feat Xzibit
> 
> ~ Sky


	27. What Lies in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Ratings: War, Angst, Ideology, Death. (M)
> 
> Characters: Warin, Shamir, Catherine, Seteth, Thales, Raine, Dimitri, Edelgard.
> 
> Summary: The castle was open, and the troops of the rebellion flooded in. Though their progress was stymied with every step by the furious defence of the Imperial soldiers, and those that slithered in the dark, their advance continued. The war had to end, by any means necessary. They had sworn an oath to take themselves to the foot of the throne in order to cast down the crowned puppet sitting atop of it, and there would be no stopping them but death. One facet of the ending was within reach... And desperate hands would cling and fight them to the very last.

**Verdant Rain Moon**

**Enbarr Castle**

**Afternoon**

"DOWN!"

The roar echoed across the eastern wing, and every soldier within hearing range threw themselves to the floor as the screeching of black magic roared overhead. Any fool unlucky enough to dodge as they had been ordered found themselves set alight in those shadowy flames, and the screams of the injured and dying were almost deafening in the tightly enclosed area that had become the battleground for the eastern arm of the rebellion's troops. It was not yet a massacre, not yet, but the enemies they had found sequestered away behind the throngs of demonic beasts and countless mages were not ready to go down without a ferocious fight, and anyone who carried a weapon was now battling for their lives against them.

Some might have called it poor luck, and others may have tried to withdraw, but when the great steel doors had been cast down and those hiding within the castle walls had been revealed... Warin had set himself to the task, and there was no way he would ever retreat. All he had needed to see was a glimpse of that snow-white hair and skin of the commander before his entire body had rooted to the spot, and a dark, grim smile had curled at his lips as the scars criss-crossing their way over his forearms began to ache in remembrance. He would not ask why Thales had made the choice to remain in the castle during the invasion, nor did he care. All that mattered was that the man was _there,_ and this time, he would not be escaping again.

The chosen guard who had accompanied him had similar thoughts, and it was heartening, even though a small, distant part of him worried. The men that had been surrounding Thales all looked of similar ilk, and they clearly wielded similar powers even if their weaponry was varied. The vast majority of the strongest soldiers did appear to be mages, but amongst them Warin had picked out a heavily armoured general, and the man had successfully fended off each and every stroke that had been sent his way. He stood at the farthest end of the hall, with Thales firmly planted behind him, but the sorcerer was not allowing himself to simply be protected. Instead he used this opportunity to assault his foes with long-range magic, working in tandem with the other high-ranking sorcerers who had likewise fallen back in a loose ring to protect their leader.

Lesser men and women instead were sent forward, but to underestimate them was to offer a neck to their blades, as Warin had quickly understood. Every single dark-robed soldier present was an elite of some sort and fashion, and it was clear that here, Thales was intending to make a final stand of sorts. Though they had clearly been caught unprepared, and almost as if they had been in council, it had not stopped any of them from leaping into action within an instant once the doors had toppled. None had chosen flight when weapons had been drawn, though all in the room were well aware that it was indeed an option for them. Either they had grown tired with fleeing, or were confident enough in their strength, and Warin was not entirely sure which was more likely, and which was more worrisome.

They were not the strongest team to have entered Enbarr, and every single soldier of the rebellion there was acutely aware of it. The main force had headed directly north through the castle, climbing stairways and cleaving a bloody path straight for the throne room where they knew the Flame Emperor was waiting for them. The castle was infested with soldiers, and it had been necessary for the rebellion's army to splinter in order to clear out every inch of their enemy's fortress. That had been his duty, to ensure that the reinforcements would not be there when they were called upon, but when a horde of demonic beasts had shown themselves and stymied their progress east, all had voted to press forward afterwards in worry of what other tricks had been hidden deep inside of Enbarr. To find Thales himself lurking in the ends of the halls, far and away from the throne room and surrounded by his fellows, and technology and magic that was foreign to everyone present... Their options had grown painfully slim.

Another screech seemed to rend the very air, and the ground beneath them bucked and shuddered as Thales again let loose another round of magic. Warin pressed himself against the base of a nearby column, gritting his teeth as he fought for steady footing, and from the dismayed cries of the men and women about him, he was painfully aware that they were being pushed too far back. Each time Thales cast a spell, his sorcerers were quick to follow on his heels, and it was hardly giving the invading forces time to breathe, let alone to advance. They had barely made it several feet into the hall, and they were being forced back at every turn. Sooner or later, the confidence of their enemies would grow, and instead of remaining on the defensive, they would advance instead and turn the entire hall into a river of blood and bodies.

"This will not last... We cannot continue to remain on the defensive..." Seteth's voice on his left echoed his thoughts, and Warin turned his head slightly to look at the much older man who was breathing hard and gripping down on his lance with white-knuckled hands. Catherine was on his right, and Thunderbrand was streaked with crimson in testament to both her courage and recklessness, and despite his breathlessness, there was not a scratch on either her, nor the man she had tasked herself with protecting when the battle had started. The two had formed a formidable whirlwind, cutting down almost everyone who approached with ease and relentless ferocity, but even with their combined might they had made little headway. There was simply too many enemies ahead of them, and Thales' spellcasting was proving far too furious to take directly. "We will be forced into a corner soon enough, if we do not make a move..."

"I can't get a good shot on anyone in this melee... Snipers are less than useless here, and they're well aware of it." Shamir noted with a dark glint in her eyes, and her bow hung useless and unused on the quiver on her back as she handled her lance easily. The mages were far too spread out, and the infantry soldiers too eager to press in to give her even a moment to breathe let alone to try and set up a good vantage point for shooting, and with that knowledge, Shamir had abandoned her best weapon and charged headlong into the melee alongside the others. It was not as if she had any other options, and she shook her head as she glanced to Warin, her jaw set and her eyes dark and narrowed, "We need a plan if we aren't going to retreat... Otherwise, we _will_ be routed."

Warin said nothing, though he felt the weight of the silent expectations being piled onto his shoulders as all three of his fellows looked to him. He had been the one to choose to advance, and he would be the one who had to make the call to retreat. His men fought at his word, and though they had been stunned by the onslaught the defenders had returned with, not a single one of them had made for an escape yet. They all had chosen death rather than retreat, and their bodies weighed on him even more than the stares of the others did. Still they were fighting, refusing to yield, and unless he made another call... It would not end.

"We punch through. You, Catherine, Seteth and I. The four of us can do it, but we're risking everything on it. Make a hole big enough in their defences, and the sorcerers will have no choice but to divert their attention to us, and not the majority of our forces. That gives the rest of our men the time they'll need to regain their feet." Warin spoke slowly, calmly, but his body felt anything but as he glanced about the heavy column that was currently the only thing granting him protection from those accursed flames that had singed the air and had turned the entire wing burning with heat. Still the damned magicians were keeping their circle, each one casting in turn to keep up the sustained fire that their forces simply could not combat, and his jaw tightened as he turned his glance back to the trio beside him. His words came through gritted teeth, and his hands clenched into fists inside the warm metal and leather of his gauntlets, "We let them run now, and this starts all over again when we finally hunt them down a second time. And then, they'll be fighting with an advantage of known territory. They didn't expect us here. They will expect us when we root them out. It's either now, or never."

"Risking everything here and now? Can't say I'm surprised, but I won't deny that you're right." Catherine spoke up first, surprising both Shamir and Seteth as she did so, but her eyes were for Warin and Warin alone as she hoisted Thunderbrand with all the ease of lifting a quill. Her face was drawn in a fierce smile, and the light of battle was shining wildly in her eyes. She was at home here, with her blade unsheathed and her blood pumping hard in her veins from the stress and adrenaline of battle. There was no shame in it, and she nearly bared her teeth in excitement as she agreed, "I'm with you. Let's put these rats down here and now. Dying in the attempt is much better than fleeing with my tail tightly tucked between my legs. Even if we don't reach the bastard in the back, we gain enough time for the rest of our men to get out of here. That's more than enough reason to push forward."

"Why is it that I'm always the one being dragged along on your ridiculous escapades...?" Shamir muttered under her breath, almost rolling her eyes, but her hand that had been loose on her lance had tightened all the same. It was ridiculous, suicidal, almost, and yet... She felt absolutely no fear at the idea of plunging forward into the thick of things no matter how alien the concept was to her as a sniper first, and a lancer second. Warin would go, with or without her, and it was clear that Catherine now would, too. She would not be left behind, no matter what she thought of the situation, or of them. To do so was unthinkable. "Fine. If you want this, then I'm all in. No bet worth taking is without a great amount of risk... and the payout is too high to ignore it."

Seteth was unsure of how to speak as he watched the trio come to such an easy agreement, and a part of him bristled at the carelessness he was witnessing. It wasn't enough that Catherine had thrown herself so willingly into fighting side by side with him, but now she was so casually speaking of throwing her entire life away on a gamble that was far outweighed from their favour? It was not at all unlike her, nor was it much unlike Warin, yet he couldn't say he was pleased with it. He shook his head slowly, his voice escaping him despite himself when he questioned more rhetorically than anything, "I suppose there will be no arguing with you, will there...? Even the slimmest chance of victory is enough for you to be willing to cast your life away."

"I didn't expect agreement. I'd be happier if you and Catherine rallied the remaining men and made for the doors, instead of pushing forward." Warin's reply was casual, almost indifferent, but Seteth saw the way Shamir's entire body stiffened at his words, and how her hands clenched down tightly on her lance in response. Warin was not looking at any of them, but rather still around the column to survey the situation, and he continued in that same conversational voice that had no place on the battlefield, and yet escaped his lips far too easily, "Victory is a miraculous outcome to hope for. Survival for my troops is what I truly want. Laying down my life for them is an obligation I chose to carry the moment I took up the mantle of command. Victory is never a mercenary's real goal. Survival is."

For a brief moment, Seteth stared at Warin as he heard another voice, more gravelly, more time-worn, speaking those words. In a mad instant, the man ducked down beside him was gone, and in his place was his father, grizzled, scarred and experienced, and no less proud. He had heard those very words from Jeralt's mouth himself before, in a time that seemed like centuries ago, and it made him take pause now, just as it had then. It did not matter that their colouring was so different, that Warin took so strongly after his mother, because in that instant, he looked every inch his father's son, and Seteth was so taken aback that he had no true reply for his claim.

_"I'd speak with you a moment, Captain Jeralt."_

_"Be quick about it. I'm afraid I'm running on a tight schedule at the moment." Jeralt did not look up from his work when he replied as he fixed his vambraces slowly, methodically, over his arms. Every movement he made was careful and slow, double-checking the armour he wore, and each and every strap that bound the leather and steel to his body. It was obviously a habit born of long experience, and half the time his eyes weren't truly on his work as his fingers moved with practised ease affixing his armour. Though the office was still clearly a strange place for him to have set up in, he didn't seem overly bothered by his surroundings. As grizzled and wary as he was, as out of place and foreign as he looked, there was little doubt that the man who stood before him now was every inch the soldier that Rhea believed him to be. He knelt down, affixing the buckles in his boots, and even as Seteth stood in the doorway, stern and imposing and completely ignored, he continued, "What is it that you want?"_

_"Your assignment... I am aware that you are to be sent deep into hostile territory that the Western Church is still tightly gripping. I'd know your strategy for quelling the unrest." Seteth replied, folding his arms over his chest as he watched the newcomer, the stranger, that Rhea trusted so deeply with cautious and wary eyes. He admitted he still did not know what to think of this man who shared the Crest of Seiros, who had fathered both Warin and Raine, but his misgivings were growing with every passing day that the strange family continued to make their home in the walls of the monastery. He knew next to nothing of the trio, and even Rhea's comforting and reassuring words were little to him as he thought of the chaos that this man was now being thrown into. Rhea had given him her trust, had even pointed out that his record alone as a former captain spoke all for itself, but that had been nearly twenty years ago... and the man who had returned with his two children in tow by force was not the one who had ran from them all those years ago. "I have been informed of your general plan, to bring the leadership into custody, but what of the finer details?"_

_"The finer details? There are no finer details." Jeralt answered smoothly, and he stood up with a fluid movement, rolling back his shoulders as he reached for the lance that had been laying across the desk that had been assigned to him so casually. The office was something he had to break in, just like any pair of new boots, but he wasn't being given the time to adjust to his new role as captain. Already Rhea was putting him to work, though he had to admit it wasn't as if he had expected anything else. Still, his eyes flickered carefully across the man in front of him, taking him in with a keen, sharp glance as he continued almost dismissively, "It's quite fine and well for you to organize a strategy far from the battlefield, but once iron is drawn and blood gets spilled, those kind of things tend to be forgotten quite quickly. The mission is the mission. The details are immaterial. And beyond the mission, I've only one true objective I plan to stick to, even if it means failure."_

_"And that objective is?"_

_"Survival." Jeralt's answer was plain and simple, and even as Seteth's eyes narrowed on him for the dismissal of the duties he was being expected to carry out as the captain of the Knights of Seiros, Jeralt stood tall, proud, and unbothered by him. Though the years had not touched him, likely due to the potent blood that was flowing through his veins, his eyes did not speak the same story as his flesh did. Every year he had not aged physically had burnt itself into his mind, and his true age showed well enough through his gaze. He was as proud as his son and daughter, and though he had bent his neck for their sakes, he would not do so for himself, and his voice was full of that same self-confidence as he explained flatly, "I understand my position as the Captain of the Knights of Seiros... but I'm not about to forget all of the lessons my life as a mercenary has taught me, either. Victory is all well and good, but when the cost of that victory means the lives of most of my men, then the victory isn't worth it. The only objective I will ever seek to complete with my full being is the survival of the troops under my command. No mission, no amount of honour, coin, or success in the long run is worth the blood of the men I lead. I led that way_ before _I was made captain,_ when _I was captain, and_ after _I left the monastery. That will not be changing now."_

"You are your father's son." Seteth remarked with a slow, painful shake of his head, and he fully ignored Warin's sharp look in return as he gripped down tightly on the handle of his lance with renewed vigour. The doubt was gone, and his head was surprisingly clear as he mused on the things he had forgotten, or had chosen to ignore, during his time of safety and sloth inside of Garreg Mach. Jeralt had been right about his priorities, and he had taught his children the same lessons, and they had taken them fiercely to heart. How many times had Raine argued passionately during the worst of those moons, refusing to see her students, her men, as mere fodder, even if it meant putting herself directly in the line of fire of a prince driven mad by bloodlust? They valued their men above their own lives... and he had allowed his earliest judgements to mistake their true ideals over and over again.

'No longer... No longer.' Seteth stood, leaning carefully to catch a glimpse of his surroundings that the column at his back were blocking. Thales was recovering, with his circle of mages beginning to take up the chorus of spells once again, and the sight brought a small, grim smile to his face. The opportunity was now, lest he wanted to risk more lives to the flames, and the thought encouraged him. He felt strangely youthful, remembering a time so distant that it was more dreamlike than a memory of flashing blades, glowing balls of crimson on the battlefield, and the roar of his brothers and sister echoing in his ears alongside his own. He had never been a coward then. He would _not_ permit the youth of this day to prove him a coward now. "After me, then!"

His own footfall sounded distant in his ears as he leapt about the column, bowing his body low as he raced forward with every ounce of speed he could muster. His lance felt light in his hands, glinting with that familiar gleam of silver, and he felt the power of his Crest pulsing softly, warmly, within his veins. It had been a long, long time since he had left the back of his wyvern to take the field on foot, but his body recalled the sensation with ease, and brought him confidence. He wove his way effortlessly through the troops before him, dodging ally and foe alike, and a small, bitter smile curled at his lips as he took aim at the closest sorcerer in the farthest ring, and let his lance fly.

A second, and a third lance from behind him followed in rapid succession, taking down two more sorcerers with piercing screeches, and yet Seteth did not stop his advance. He could hear Shamir and Warin on his heels, and even closer Catherine's voice cursing somewhere on his right, but the sounds were strangely comforting as he watched that protective barrier that had kept Thales far and out of their reach crumble. The remaining mages started and turned, their harmony disrupted as their comrades fell, and from far behind, there was a chorus of roars as the rebellion's men saw their leaders punching through and giving them the reprieve they sorely needed.

'Farther. Faster. Do not yield.' The words were a drumbeat in his ears, demanding movement, demanding action, and Seteth followed them as the trio at his back separated to carve their way into their enemies with extreme prejudice. He, himself, picked out the tallest sorcerer of the lot, and he only paused for a moment to pull his axe free of the belt that had been holding it close to his body. As his lance had, it felt light and liquid in his hands, eager and willing to perform as he demanded it, and he lashed out with cold precision to land his blade clean into the chest of the terrified mage who dared to block his way.

The knight who had stood before Thales, staunch and unbothered, now moved as the tide of the battle began to shift. Behind the foursome who had broken through, the spirits of their soldiers had revived and now they were rallying. They streamed forth like a river that had been loosed of its dam, and despite their wounds and wariness, they fought as if they were fresh from sleep and eager for battle. He did not understand their capability, their bravery, but it did not matter as he pushed forward with an unnatural speed. The heavy, thick plates of steel he wore seemed to be little more than leather for all that they hindered his movement, and in what seemed like a flash he had inserted himself before the raging emerald whirlwind that had started it all, and his voice came deep and menacing from behind his helmet as he spat at his foe, "Spawn of the Fell Star...! You will not live to see another sunrise! The light now again belongs to us!"

The words were a shock, a cold bucket of water dumped unceremoniously upon his head, and Seteth felt his muscles tense as the axe of his enemy came for him without mercy. He forced himself to dodge, cruelly reminding his limbs to move even as his head spun with confusion, and no small amount of anxiety and sudden fear. The world about him slowed, and the sounds and smells dulled into a grey, unfeeling sort of cloud as those words rang in his ears like peals of unending thunder.

It had been lifetimes since he had heard those curses, and now, having them uttered at him again in the halls of the castle of Enbarr, suddenly all made perfect sense. He had understanding of who it was that had been lurking behind the shadows, of who had been pulling the strings and how, and yet somehow he had difficulty believing it. They had been enemies of an age long since forgotten and erased from history, a figment of his worst nightmares and memory, but still firmly trapped in a past he had moved away from in his search for a new, better life. Yet with only a handful of words, all of those years came undone, and he was a young man again, standing shoulder to shoulder with his siblings and staring out in horror at the red stone walls that had once been his home, and had housed all that he had known and loved ever since he had been nothing but a little boy.

 _"They took everything from us. They took_ her _from us. It's time, Brothers. It's time for our vengeance. Will you stand with me?"_

"You... yet live? It was you, all this time?" The words escaped him in a low mutter, low and confused as a dark burn began to gnaw somewhere deep inside of his stomach. It was ludicrous, and yet... It made far too much sense. It had been so long ago, after all. The war had passed from history into myth, the truth twisted so far and so often that it no longer resembled the clear memories that haunted him deep in the coldest nights. How had it happened? How had they failed so spectacularly then, in the throes of their greatest victory and tragedy, to permit them to once again walk in the light of day? What had they done wrong, all those years ago, to permit them to have lived through what should have been the end?

"You idiot! Move!" Catherine's voice was a shout of rage, and he felt himself being shouldered roughly aside as the axe of his foe came down harshly on Thunderbrand. The woman ground her teeth down audibly, absorbing the blow even as it shook her entire body from the force of it, but she didn't much mind the sudden trembling in her limbs. For whatever reason, Seteth had been standing dumb and blind in front of his enemy, making himself the easiest target she could imagine, and she was only grateful her reaction had been fast enough to save him from having his skull cleaved in half. "You... damned... pain in the arse!"

Thunderbrand roared, shaking the very hall itself as it slid free of the axe's great shoving strength, and with a fluid movement that looked like the arc of lightning, the great Relic swung upwards and offered up a spray of blood for its master. Catherine did not let up an inch, her sword screeching in the air as the heavily armoured knight fell back, cursing and bleeding openly from his torn arm, and Seteth could only stare in mute amazement at her ferocity. She pushed forward, a battering ram that knew no mercy, and the knight had no choice but to give way to her even as he snarled angrily, "Do not get in my way...! This fool has long been ours to take! Die in your own turn!"

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" Catherine's answer was a roar, and Thunderbrand answered her with a surge of power as she slammed her arms up and to the side, casting the axe from the failing hands of her opponent. In two more movements, and another spray of blood, the opposing wall of a man was staggering even further back as his armour tore and shredded against the force of her anger. It was a macabre and yet oddly beautiful display, and her eyes flashed with wrath as she struck out again, with her Relic gracing in a crackling, spitting arc, "The lot of you can go scurrying back into the dirt with your master!"

It all seemed to be happening from a distance, and Seteth watched as Catherine's next and final stroke cleaved her enemy's head clean from his shoulders. The body collapsed almost instantly, toppling over to the ground in a twitching, shuddering mess, and the sudden loss of the mountain of a man gave him sight to what was happening further back into the hall. He hadn't seen Warin or Shamir push so far ahead with no one but themselves for back-up, yet somehow he mused that he could not be at all surprised. The two were lone wolves, rarely interacting with the group and having few they deemed trustworthy at their backs, and yet as they stood toe to toe with Thales, their movements couldn't have been more in sync if they had rehearsed them.

Warin was a blur, his lance striking out time after time when Thales lifted his hands, and Shamir was his shadow as arrow after arrow shot from her bow to force Thales farther back and away. Each time he tried to summon his magic, his hands were met with blades, and he was bleeding freely from a score of a wounds all across his arms. An arrow was stuck in his shoulder, too far away from his chest to be fatal, but enough to impede him, yet still he was somehow keeping the two mercenaries from getting close enough to land a killing blow. Still, he was being penned in with the chaos, forced farther and farther into a corner, and no amount of magic could keep up with the footwork of the lightning-flashes he was battling.

It was a deadly dance, and one that clearly was paying off. Thales had started from a position of security and power, but without his main guard, and his ring of mages shattered, Warin and Shamir had raced to meet him. Unlike in Derdriu, the pale-faced sorcerer had been forced to play a conservative hand with two foes flanking him rather than one, and Warin had learned his tricks and was not permitting him to close. He kept him fully at bay with his lance, each time striking him down with a slash or a stab whenever he tried to lessen the distance. With Shamir backing him up with her deadly accuracy, he had been boxed in and cornered, and he was far too focussed on keeping them from getting too close to have noticed his surroundings.

Thales' back touched the wall as he pulled too far back, and a glance over his shoulder was his fatal error. Like a wyvern let loose from his lead, Warin was upon him in a flash, and his lance buried itself in the sorcerer's stomach with an audible, sickening squelching noise. The older man twisted, face stretching into a deep scowl of pain, and an arrow let fly an instant later to bury itself alongside its mate in his chest. Thales staggered, pale, flat eyes wide and staring in uncomprehending agony, and Warin twisted the lance he was still holding as he growled out furiously, "You don't get to escape this time. Not today!"

"Fools." Thales' laughter was an eerie chortle, ringing out over the sudden silence as all turned to see him impaled to the wall by the lance that had run him through, and though blood was trickling from the corners of his lips, all signs of pain was suddenly gone from him. He grasped the lance's handle, staring at the face of the young man who had run him through as he continued to laugh, "This victory... means nothing...! You have won... only another sunrise... It will still fall to dark for all you vermin... I will ensure it!"

Darkness enveloped him, a familiar, warm blackness that transported him far, far away from the cold and empty halls of the castle of Andrestia, and back to the sacred caves that his people, his ancestors, had carved out for him and his kin many long years before his birth. His blood flowed freely as the weapon that had skewered him fell away inside of the magic, held by its master and unwilling to leave him so long as his hands kept their tight grip. The arrows however remained buried in his chest, but they were merely a nuisance as Thales found himself in the great halls of Shambala once again. Time was short, but he moved with purpose for the dais despite the pain, and despite the chill that was slowly but surely chewing its way through the body far more used to darkness and cold than it was warmth and sunlight.

Still. He had no intent to die in the caves that he and his people had been chased into, and as his shaky steps took him up the short staircase and to the dais that was already faintly glowing... A grim, bloody smile curled across his face at the thought of the fools that he had left behind. They would wonder, they would never think him dead unless they had his head, and it was one little victory he himself could personally claim in the end of it all. But escape had never been his motivation. He knelt down in the centre of the circle, his hand faintly glowing as he studied the runes that spread out in a wide, wide radius all along the stone beneath him.

A last-ditch effort, it had been for, when they had first been carven out and sunk with magic... A worrisome counter-measure, should their base be discovered and their vast numbers overwhelmed... At least, that was what he had been taught, when it had come his turn to lead and entrusted with the history, the oath, and the longing for the world above him. So many plans, so many carefully placed pawns, and all knocked awry in a short, short lifetime... but the hope had not yet been extinguished. There was still one last pawn he had not unleashed, one last card to play, and as his blood fell with the patter of a rainfall, Thales' smile grew with dark malice.

He knelt down, body straining underneath the effort, and for a moment, he raised his head even as he placed his trembling hands upon the runes beneath him. The pulsing of his city, of the technology that the Fell Star had taken from them and forced them to build in the darkness was almost a magical sight to him now. How proud he had been as a child, knowing the struggle, swearing his life to the enemy, and marvelling at how far he and his people had progressed as the vermin above remained firmly rooted in the dirt and the muck like the animals they were. They knew so little, chained down by what they called a "goddess", but he felt no pity. No, there could never be pity for the fools who walked in the light of the day so freely, while he and his skulked in the shadows until the pigment left their skin, and left them chalky, white, and ghostlike from the generations that had been robbed of the simple pleasure of a world aboveground.

No longer. Magic pulsed through his weakening body, and though he felt a pang of loss, of regret to know that all that he admired was to be crumbled to dust... Thales did not hesitate. It was a small sacrifice, with his life, and the lives of all of his men, already having been claimed. There were others still to carry out their work, and he trusted that their hatred and their oath would urge them onwards, even when their home fell to ruins. They never needed a place to return to, when their goal had always been to leave it all behind and reclaim the sun. He felt the rumbling as the runes grew bright with his magic, and his smile curved all the more sharply as that familiar sound, the keen whistling louder than a wyvern's shriek, and far more deadly, began to fall so far above his head.

Crashes upon crashes shook the caves, breaking through the ceiling and causing a massive wave of stone to collapse as the mountain gave way underneath the javelins. Thales held still, his focus absolute even as the chaos roared all about him and the stone began to fall faster, harder, with each stroke that came upon his home. Light flooded in through the holes above, shining its harsh rays for the first time in generations on the underground city, and Thales blinked in the cruel brightness with a grim chuckle... He had fulfilled his duty, in a twisted, bitter sense, he supposed... He _had_ brought the light to Shambala.

"Rise, old fool... Rise with those who aided you as they did in times of our majesty, and seek your vengeance... Seek _our_ vengeance." Thales's voice was deep, intoned with magic and sinking deep into stone and steel as his old, trembling fingers gripped down on the runes beneath him. All of the mountain was shaking now, and the debris was piling up about him and across the beautiful city he had once called home. Distantly there were screams and cries of shock, but he heeded them not as his entire body willed itself into the spell. It was time for the final stroke. He would not live to see it, but others would, and in this way... He, and the rest of his kin, would finally find justice for the sins committed upon them lifetimes ago.

An unfathomable weight struck his back, sending him lurching forward and the bones in his shoulders crunched in answer to the boulder that had knocked him flat. His hand stayed where it was, against all odds, and blood flowed faster from the wound in his chest. He tasted copper on his tongue, on his lips, but he did not mind as the warmth of the sun shone down on his prone form. It would be over, one way or another, and he had fulfilled his duty to the fullest. Seeing the victory ahead did not matter, so long as it was secured. His life meant nothing... and he laughed, with true humour he had not felt since his days as a boy, and it rang out despite the sounds of chaos and breaking and the world caving in on itself.

Victory was close. As close as the taste of blood on his lips... and Thales continued to laugh even as he was buried by the mountain he had destroyed. A smile was on his lips as the darkness closed in, piled in stone and blood and shambles of what had been his childhood home, and laughter was the last wheezing sound he made as death came to take him from the glimpse of the sun he had felt burning on his skin. Victory would come... Victory with a name that would make it all the sweeter when he'd welcome his foes from the flames as it struck them down, one by one, with the cruelty of magic, brute strength, and a hatred that transcended the boundaries of life.

_Nemesis._

* * *

She was a monster.

Dimitri had no other words to describe the _thing_ that stood ahead of him at the foot of the throne, and his body was heavy with both shock, and a strange sense of grief as he stared at once had been the Emperor of Andrestia only yesterday. Now, in her place, was a creature that even his worst nightmares in the depths of his madness could never have conjured. Dark, black lines of muscle bulged unnaturally, sinew without the covering of flesh, and everywhere he looked where pale skin should have existed there instead was only black, grey, and red colours that pierced his eyes and reminded him that no human was now there to fight him.

She would have looked much like a Demonic Beast, were it not for the fact that her face remained mostly unchanged. True, those strange, ugly scales had crept their way onto her cheeks and chin, and her eyes had turned into depths of black with shining crimson pupils, but there was no doubting the fact that it was still her underneath this hideous transformation. She was a sickening sight, with large, spindly blackened fingers and claws protruding from her bulging, muscular torso, and from behind were a strange facsimile of wings. They were feathered, as ebony as the black eagle that Andrestia had claimed for the house, stretching across those shoulders like some sort of macabre shawl or cape, and seemingly meshing into the strange half-circle that extended from behind her and over her head like an array of blades, all attached to more ebony, sinewy musculature that simply did not belong where it seemingly was.

Every single inch of her just screaming _wrong_ in ways that his mind could barely comprehend. From the blades that seemed to be a part of her, and yet were not, to the shining pupils that had no more humanity in them, to the strange corset-like set of scales that stretched down her lower body in a cursed testament to her favoured crimson armour... All things he had seen on Demonic Beasts once before, but now remade in a mockery of a human form that only brought forth shock and a deep sense of revulsion. He had never seen the like of it before, he doubted he ever would again, and yet... What stood before him was _her,_ if he could call what she had transformed herself into anything even remotely human any longer.

Those hands stretched, claws dripping crimson in testament to those who had reached her first and that she had swatted aside with callous ease, and grinding his teeth, Dimitri lifted Areadbhar to ward off her reach. He had seen what damage those heavy claws could manage, he had seen her swipe Petra's wyvern clear out of the sky with the ease of shooing away an errant fly, and that casual movement had sent the princess of Brigid flying well across the room and into stone column. She had tried to rise at once, groaning and hissing with pain, and only Ashe's volley of arrows had distracted the monster looming down on the fallen woman enough for her to be pulled out of harm's way. Even injured as she was, Petra had been protesting, crying out to be permitted to keep fighting, but Raine had coldly refused her. Her students would not die in order to take this monster down, and she had been cruel in ensuring Dedue would keep her out of this room under threat of being forcibly knocked unconscious if she made a nuisance of herself.

No, after one quick, small clash, the decision had been made with harsh efficiency. Only those with Relics were to remain to fight, and any other was sent from the throne room immediately for their own safety. Whatever monster they faced was beyond the ken of those who fought without a Relic or a Crest to defend them, and their numbers were dwindling with each new injury that was inflicted upon them. The fastest fared the best over the strongest, as even with the massive bulk of muscle that was their foe, the swiping claws and bursts of magic came slowly. It was far easier to dodge than it was to meet head-on, and the only one out of all of them remaining to have no serious injuries was Raine herself, but it had not been an easy feat to accomplish.

Now, only he, she, Annette, Sylvain and Ingrid remained, and Annette had dropped far back in grim understanding that her offensive magic would do them no good. Mercedes had not recovered nearly enough to join them at the frontline, and so she had taken on her dear friend's burden without a word of complaint or concern. She wished to fight, to do what damage she could, but she ceded to prudence, and was mustering her energy for healing. Outside, Felix and Dedue were waiting for their reinforcements, if any were to make it, and guarding the wounded from any other traps that might be sprung in the midst of what had to be their final struggle in the Empire's capital.

The other four fought like a pack of lions, each one taking turns in a strange relay to counter _her_ in whatever ways they could manage. Her magic was strong, otherworldly strong, and those frighteningly long limbs were even stronger. They had all seen the damage she had done to Petra, who hadn't even been the main target of her claws, and it made them intensely wary, even without their professor's stern orders. Relics gleamed in their expert hands, flashing with crimson each and every time they were raised to defend or attack, but little seemed to be piercing through the great, scaly hide that now was protecting the monster they were fighting. She was like a Demonic Beast, staggeringly tough, even more deadly, and with reserves of energy and strength that seemed to come from a never-ending font they could not see.

Even their weapons, tried and true and trusted as they were, seemed to be making little more than a dent in her despite their best efforts. True, she would stagger, she would be repelled, but there was no sign of even a nick in those ebony-coloured scales that turned their Relics aside each time they struck a blow. They were panting with exertion, sweat clinging to their brows and hair, and yet not one of them faltered. Each time one raced forward and returned, another was ready and waiting to take their place, and with fearsome efficiency they continued to hack away at her defences in a vain hope to find something, some way, to break through her accursed shields.

Ingrid fell back now, her hands trembling on her lance as she dodged a swing from those crimson-tipped claws, and Sylvain was a red-tipped hurricane as he blew past her to take her place at once. Annette was just behind her, a hand reached to touch the wound in her shoulder, coaxing the flesh to mend and the blood to stop flowing with a grinding of her teeth. Ingrid looked over at her friend, catching the paleness of her skin and the wariness in her usually so bright turquoise-coloured eyes was stunning. It made her hesitate, taking away the situation at hand for her friend's condition, and she began tersely, concern tightening her throat, "Annette, you should pull back. You can't heal us all like this."

"And leave you here to do the rest? No offence, Ingrid, but you're no replacement for me. You won't be able to pick up the slack if I leave. And without Mercie, there's only me until reinforcements arrive." Annette answered just as firmly, but her tightly set jaw trembled all the same at the mention of their sidelined healer. Mercedes was in no position to be fighting, and though she had initially tried to argue, the ugly lattice of bruising about her throat had been more than enough evidence to keep her firmly seated on the sidelines until the end of the fighting. Their professor had said she had done enough, and Annette firmly agreed with her, even if had meant picking up the weight for her dear friend. "There's no retreating now. We've come too far."

"Annette, I know I'm nowhere near your skill with healing magic, but I can staunch wounds if I must. You won't be any good to us swaying on your feet from exhaustion. Professor sent everyone out for their own safety. Do as she ordered. We can't protect you and ourselves at the same time. Not from this." Ingrid answered firmly, and though she was aware Annette was right about her lack of mastery over the healing arts... It didn't matter now. The only thing she cared about was escaping this fight with every single one of her friends alive. "Please. If something were to happen-"

"Sylvain!"

Cold shock froze both women as they turned in unison to see the red-headed knight trapped in the claws of the monster they were fighting, and all heard the ominous creaking of his armour as those strong, spindly arms squeezed tight. An anguished gasp escaped the knight's mouth, and blood trickled from his open lips even as he struggled against the claws that were burying themselves deep in his sides. His lance hung useless in his hand, unable to be lifted regardless of how desperate he was to raise it, and his eyes squeezed shut in pain as the grip tightened even further.

Raine and Dimitri were flashes of flames, on the exposed back of their foe in seconds at the sight of Sylvain's plight, and both the Sword of the Creator and Areadbhar were waves of golden-bronze as they leapt out in answer. Sylvain was dropped in a heap as their foe turned on them both, snarling in outrage and pain, and Raine ducked underneath the blow as Dimitri rolled to the left and underneath the outstretched arms. He was quick as Raine engaged, dragging Sylvain out of danger with both hands in as fast, but firm manner as the situation could allow. He was met halfway by Annette and Ingrid, both having leapt forward but having been too far away to do anything, and both women dropped to their knees beside the red-headed knight who was groaning as his blood began to seep out onto the floor in an ever-widening puddle.

Ingrid unbuckled his armour with quick, efficient hands as she heard her professor's blade clashing again and again with those accursed claws of their enemy, keeping her focus and giving her students the time they dearly needed. Annette moved immediately after Ingrid, finding the deep puncture wounds in his side and applying steady pressure as she mustered the last remnants of her energy. She was flagging, but she didn't care as she ground down her teeth and hissed thoughtlessly, "This is not happening...! You aren't dying, Sylvain, do you hear me?!"

"Y-Yes... ma'am..." Sylvain managed to laugh in response, though his voice was pained and his breathing ragged as he felt Ingrid's less-skilled hands, but somehow still all the more gentler, pressed on his opposing side to deliver the same treatment. Her magic felt so different from Annette's, somehow lighter and flowing quicker, though there was no dispute which was stronger. Annette's own power was like thick honey, flowing with slow, heavy purpose, and already he could feel the wounds beginning to seal underneath her hands. He closed his eyes, fighting the pain and wishing he hadn't been so damned foolish in closing with an enemy that had nearly double the reach that he and his lance already had. But that was a mistake he could not rectify, and he was only glad that his ribs had not been crushed in the attempt on his neck. "I'll live until your hair gets nice and grey, just for you, Annette..."

"Get him out! _Now!_ " Raine's icy command was a bucket of water being dumped over their heads, and both force-made healers looked up sharply to see her standing between them and Edelgard, back firmly turned in their direction as her sword glinted crimson in her hands. Those claws, still coated with blood were reaching for her, but she held them at bay with the edge of her blade, slicing through scale and sinew to draw still more that dripped slowly, mockingly, onto her face as they continued to grope and grasp for her. If it bothered her an ounce, Raine showed no sign, and her voice rang out again as she ordered fiercely, "Ingrid, Annette, pull back! Leave this to us!"

"Professor-"

"That wasn't a suggestion!" Raine's roar shook the very walls of the throne room, and she ducked and wove as she heard Dimitri at her back, rushing to her aid to give her relief and a second weapon that she sorely needed. Knowing she was now free, Raine didn't hesitate to drop her blade, throwing herself underneath those reaching, grasping fingers and taking her enemy's back. The Sword of the Creator pulsed hot and bright in her hands, responding to both her wrath and bloodlust, and it screamed as it struck out like a whip, cracking down across the broad expanse of the monstrous black back before her. Scales cracked and folded under the strength of her blow, and for an instant she saw crimson blood begin to trickle down, and encouraged, she called out as she saw Ingrid and Annette hesitating, "Dimitri and I have this! You've done enough! Get out while you can!"

"D-Damn it..." Sylvain's groan was weary, and his nose was bleeding as he raised a shaky hand to touch his sides that those horrid claws had ripped open as easily as sheet paper. He hadn't expected the counter-attack to be so vicious, and by the time he had realized her speed had suddenly matched his own, it had been far too late to try to dodge or defend. He had been yanked from his feet with the ease of an insect being plucked from the ground, his armour doing nothing to protect him, and he supposed it was only a small mercy that had saved him from having his chest crushed into pulp. He could hear Annette and Ingrid hovering over him, but his eyes were for his king and professor as they took up defensive positions before him, and he shook his head as his hand tightened around his birthright, "I'm not... down just yet...!"

"Sylvain. We have to leave." Ingrid spoke tersely, understanding at once that there was no more room for fighting in the rest of them. Her magic was empty, just as Annette's was, and Sylvain's wounds were only barely closed. He needed a healer that was not out of breath or stamina, and every second they lingered was a second their professor and future king had to fight defensively to keep them safe. She locked eyes with Annette, who nodded firmly despite the curl to her lip and the ashen pallor of her face, and wordlessly the two moved in tandem to pull Sylvain off of the floor by hooking an arm each over their shoulders. He struggled, body limp and too twisted with pain to provide much resistance even as they dragged him, and Ingrid muttered as she pulled him harshly along, "We have to trust them... They can handle this... They'll succeed... I know they will!"

Dimitri was a lion as he leapt about the mass of black and violet magic that was almost literally thrown at him like a boulder being loosed from a catapult. He watched as those crimson orbs decorating her body dimmed and pulsed as her magic left her palm, and the projectile flew straight and true to collide into the wall behind him with a thunderclap. The wall caved in under the pressure and force, with stone and metal crumbling into a heap underneath the sudden hole that had been punched into it. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the great doors opening, with the last trio escaping into friendly and safe hands, and the thought brought a small, grim smile to his face despite it all.

Now, it was only them. Raine stood on his left, breathing heavily and eyes narrowed, but still relatively unscathed despite how long she had been keeping her foe at bay. He faced down the monster which had once been his step sister, and his teeth ground down tightly as he adjusted his grip on his lance. Those dark eyes with pointed red irises stared at him like something out of a void, or perhaps his worst nightmares, but yet he felt not a flicker of pity like he had the day beforehand when he had stood opposite of her and offered her a solution of peace rather than bloodshed. Horror he did feel, horror and awe and something approaching disgust, but anything relatively warm or gentle had long since fled him to be replaced with a cold and bitter truth.

The thing that stood in front of him was no longer Edelgard. It was no longer even human. In her quest for her ideals, she had thrown away even her humanity to reach her goals, and he was well aware she had no regrets in doing so. It was not her way. She strode forward, unflinching and unthinking, arrogant and proud and defiant, and even now, in this strange and horrible form, she was still fighting. She would die that way, content in the idea that she had never surrendered, that she was not wrong but had only been beaten by a stronger foe, and the thought made his teeth grind despite himself as he hissed without thinking, "Did you think to turn yourself into the Goddess herself with this power of yours...?"

"Unlikely." Raine's answer came curt and clipped at his side, and he watched as she took careful steps, circling about their still foe who had now transferred her lifeless gaze to her instead. She did not yet move, seeming to be waiting, and Raine took full advantage of the moment's respite as her hands readjusted their tight grip on the handle of the ancient Relic she had been given. It was hot in her grasp, almost burning, and yet she felt no pain. Instead there was only a quiet sense of wrath, and something in her snarled in rage at the idea of that smiling, chiding, arrogant little girl stood in her mind's eye to scold her with an impatient air of someone many, many lifetimes her elder. "This is no mockery of a goddess... This is the end goal of a twisted search for power. Throwing away what little humanity she had left, in a last-ditch gambit to prevent loss. Let's put her out of her misery, and end this charade once and for all."

"Agreed."

Like twin waves they rushed forward in tandem, and everywhere Edelgard reached, the other was ready to find the opening she provided and strike with full strength and prejudice. The scales were falling from her body now, and blood was dripping freely from the score of wounds that their weapons were finally opening on her. Whatever shields she had built about herself had finally been chipped away to the last, and just like every Demonic Beast before her, now her body had no more magical defences to keep her opponents at bay. The house of the Blue Lions had tore away her magic, slowly but surely like an ocean on the mountainside, and now it was all she could do to keep pace with their furious assault.

Without her students to defend, Raine became a lightning bolt as she unleashed her blade time and time again. It sang out in fury, matching her temper and her desire to see this end, and the heat in her hands was a painful comfort even as she dodged and wove about the magic, the claws, and that hateful, empty gaze that pierced her through like a lance. Her chest burnt with seething rage, wondering at the injustice, at the absurdity, of what she had been dragged into, and her teeth ground down in a ferocious scowl. All she had ever wanted, thrown away for a little more power, and though she knew it selfish... She couldn't help but hate her foe all the more for her callous disregard for her own life.

She would never be human. Her heart would always lay silent and still in her chest, but at the very least the shell that carried it looked and acted like any other human body she knew of. Even in her worst moments of despair and self-loathing, of cursing and wonder why it had been her... She was not this much of a monster. She had been made this way against her will, and had not chosen to throw it all away. If anything, she would have given up her neck for a chance for a beating heart, even if it was only for a few moments. The idea that someone, anyone, would throw away such a gift for something as petty as strength... It made her burn in ways few other things could, and she felt a wrath she had not allowed to burn since she had hunted Kronya in the depths of the Sealed Forest.

Now, though, her burn was controlled, and she did not mistake her foe for herself. In the glimpses of the foliage, all those years ago, the back of her enemy had sometimes slipped into the sight of her own, and she had known what her hunt was truly for. In this moment, sword in hand, she saw her enemy as she was, and held no second guesses, or secret self-hate that made her wish she was striking down her younger, more foolish self. Those days of mistakes, misunderstanding, and grief were behind her. Now there was only cold reality, hot blood, and a desire to see it all come to an end more than anything else.

A screech rent through the air, and Raine snarled out in pain as her arm lifted automatically to shield her neck as that searching hand shot out towards her throat. The claws pierced easily through her forearm, cutting through armour and skin so easily that it may as well have been parchment. Her teeth ground down as she held her ground, grasping at her own arm with her sword bracing her bone to push back against that heavy, unyielding strength behind that bulging arm that sought to slam its fingers through her neck and tear her head from her shoulders. The claws had sunk straight on through her forearm, reaching still for her throat, and she grunted with both effort and pain as she tried to hold her at bay. "D-Damn...!"

"Raine!" Dimitri's roar was both a strange balm and a roll of thunder, and with it followed an ear-piercing scream of agony as Areadbhar came down to slice the hand clean from its wrist. In an instant it disappeared in a wisp of grey-and-black smoke and cinders, leaving his beloved professor to stumble back in surprise and pain as the long, piercing claws that had been sunken into her forearm disappeared with it. He reached with his free hand, catching her before she could hit the floor from the sudden change of momentum, and he heard his heart hammering in his ears as he saw the blood flowing fast and free from the four clean stab wounds in her arm. "Raine, are you all right?!"

"As fine as I can be... Release me. This ends now. I can still hold my sword. I don't need two arms." Raine answered tersely, and even as she spoke she could feel her fingers growing numb despite the hot sensation of blood trickling down her hand from her wounds. She tried to close her hand to make a fist, but the current of pain that jolted through her torn muscles was enough to warn her that she would get no more use of her right arm no matter how hard she tried. She was glad it was her left that held her blade, and she stood wary but capable, and her good fingers squeezed all the tighter around the hilt of her sword. She was completely spent, and every single move counted as there was nothing left for her to use in terms of her magic. She was fighting on skill alone, hoping against hope every step would be the right one... but she could still fight, and until she no longer drew breath, she would not stop.

Dimitri joined her as she leapt forward again, though he was wary as he watched the way her arm swung lifelessly at her side every time she moved. Blood flew from the wounds freely in scarlet ribbons, a macabre testament to her speed even in injury, and if anything, she seemed to be moving faster if only due to adrenaline. No matter where the magic and claws and great arms reached, Raine was never there to catch a second blow, and Dimitri watched as their Relics crashed again and again on crackling scales that could no longer rebuff their brute strength.

Another shriek pierced through the air, though this time it came from a throat and not due to weapons. The Sword of the Creator and Areadbhar had found home at last, one buried square between the gigantic hulking shoulders and another deep in her gut, and the black-and-grey scaled monster threw back its head in an ungodly wail of agony as the weapons were slammed in to their hilts, and then pulled back with just as much mercy. Now the ribbons were streams, and both the professor and future king of Faerghus drew back, warily pressing together as they watched their foe reaching for her wounds.

That familiar black smoke begun to plume as the scales fell away, and neither of the two soldiers spoke as they watched the creature shrink in on itself as all of the Demonic Beasts had before in their death throes. Yet there was a coldness to the air, a tension that did not allow for them to release their hold on their weapons yet, and both were aware they were holding their breath as a great gust of wind carried away that black haze to take away the guise of the monster, and instead leave the small, frail form of a woman behind.

Yet, unlike all of those before her... She was not yet dead. She knelt where she had finally fallen from the air, and blood was dripping steadily from gaping wounds that had been opened all over her body, but still her shoulders heaved with her deep, anguished breaths. Her eyes were sharp even as she clutched at her stomach, which showed only dented armour and no hole like there had been buried in her monstrous form. Her axe was nowhere to be found, likely lost in the transformation that she had thrown herself into, and she knelt unarmed, wounded, and winded at the foot of the staircase that led up to the massive throne from which she had led the war.

Dimitri was the first to move, and Raine said nothing even as her body tensed in unconscious distrust and worry. There were no signs of those fatal wounds they had carved into that accursed body she had been wearing only scant moments before, and though it was clear she was in pain, Raine knew better than to believe all the fight had gone out of her. Everything they had seen, everything they had experienced, warned her that this was not the last gasp, and to underestimate her now would be tantamount to throwing her life away. Yet, Dimitri was the one with the sole claim to her neck, and even with her anger, Raine was not selfish enough to try and take it away from him. So instead she stood silent, hand tightly gripping her blade as Dimitri left her side to approach their foe, and her body tensed all the further in preparation to spring if needed at any given moment.

Dimitri's hands however were loose on his own Relic as he closed the distance between them, and he watched with a quiet, sombre gaze as Edelgard looked up to meet him. Either she could not stand, or would not, and she remained where she had fallen, one hand still tightly gripping at her stomach in phantom pain for a wound that was no longer there. A steady stream of crimson was trickling from the corner of her mouth, and her body was covered in wisps of ash and blood in a sign that her physical body had indeed taken damage even if the wounds were not accurate to where they had been inflicted, but still Dimitri moved forward. He only stopped when he came within reach of her, and his voice when he spoke matched his stare, grave, firm, but quiet, "It's over... The war is ended. The fighting... can finally stop. Will you end it yourself, now, El? Will you admit defeat?"

A gloved hand extended, and both Raine and Edelgard watched with slightly widening eyes as Dimitri stooped just a little as he offered his hand to his step-sister. His expression was torn with grief and pain, with frustration, anger, and weariness, but all the same he held out his hand even as the two women in the room stared on at him wordlessly. He did not mind the piercing of their eyes, understanding he had to look a fool, but no longer was the beast raging. The man had returned in full control, and it was the man who spoke now, his voice strong and clear, "Give me your hand, El. Let us end this together, rather than in death. I've had enough of burying corpses. Do not ask me to kill again, if we can avoid it."

A small, mocking smile curled at the corners of her bloody lips, and Edelgard looked to his hand before turning her face pointedly away from it. Instead, her eyes moved to the woman who had not stirred, who still stood ready and willing to end her if she so much as twitched wrong, and the sight of her stirred her aching chest all over again. Rage, hatred, and that same ugly burning sense of longing that she had worked too hard to quench, but no longer had the strength to deny. She hated this woman, who had given comfort and love so freely, and had spurned her so readily instead when she had taken the chance to reach for her hand, and she made no efforts to disguise her emotions now. She ignored Dimitri entirely, her voice low, hoarse, but still somehow capable of spitting venom as she questioned, "And will _you_ allow it...? Will you let him spare me?"

"I'd see you dead and buried before giving you a second chance to bring the world down with you in your childish rage, but that choice isn't mine to make." Raine's answer was cold and brutally honest, and her hand gripped down tightly on her blade as she felt its heat surge up through her arm in answer to her anger. Even now, at the cusp of it all... Raine wanted to feel surprise, perhaps maybe even pity, but all there was in her was that stifling feeling of wrath. It would never end, if Edelgard lived. She knew it just as she knew she needed to breathe in order to survive. She could not stop fighting. She simply was incapable of it. Her eyes flickered to Dimitri, ceding to him despite her pragmatism, her cold and unending feelings of anger, before back to the flat, hateful gaze of Edelgard as she continued, "It's his. You wronged him, long before you wronged me. I'll handle whatever comes after you, in due time, just as I promised I would."

"Your new world... won't last, you know... It cannot last."

"I agree." Raine was aware her answer surprised her, as well as Dimitri, who stiffened and turned to look at her in alarm, but she ignored him as she settled her eyes firmly on Edelgard's startled expression. She didn't mind it. If this was what she wished for, she supposed at the end, she could do one last courtesy as Dimitri had done. And the truth was not a heavy burden to bear as she shrugged her shoulders, expression unconcerned and calm as she explained plainly, "It cannot last, because nothing lasts... Especially when people like you exist. No one will ever be made totally happy by anyone else's utopia. It's impossible... but that doesn't mean the world we strive for is without merit, or that fighting for it is a useless endeavour. We've come this far. We've much farther to go. You may not see where we end up, once the time comes to pass it along to a new generation, but at least we can be assured our groundwork won't be torn up when we're buried. True change comes slowly, Flame Emperor. Slowly, and with great time, effort, and love. Not with blood and fire and fury. You cannot understand that. You will never understand that. And that is why you've lost."

"So I won't see the fruits of your labours... Fine. I do not want to see a world wrapped up again in misery... While foolish, weak, and ignorant hands throw away the truth for the easy path." Edelgard returned with a low, bitter chuckle, and she leaned down against the ground as the pain rang out throughout the entirety of her body. Her free hand continued to cradle her stomach, wondering at the phantom pain of the stab wound that did not exist, but had been so utterly real only a handful of minutes ago. It was still difficult, distinguishing between the body she had worn and the body she had now, but she supposed it didn't matter overly much. Even with the loss of a hand, it had not stymied her when she had "returned" to her human body, as all defeated Beasts did. True, she was battered and wounded, and perhaps at the end of her rope... but the embers had not burnt out just yet as she muttered lowly, "However... _you_ won't see it either."

It happened almost too fast for Raine's eyes to catch. The sliding hand across the waist, the flash of silver, the alarmed shout, and then the sharp noise of metal piercing through metal and into flesh. Then there was another sound, louder, of something broad and heavy plunging with a sickening squelching noise deep into skin, muscle and bone. Yet it all seemed to be distant, as if it was happening a world away. Then that world tipped abruptly on its axis, sending everything askew, and then cold, dull, and grey. This was the end, and there wasn't a damned thing she could do to stop it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> If this heat doesn't kill me, then I am pretty sure these fight scenes will. I have no idea what I was thinking when I decided I'd do a companion sort-of novella to a Fire Emblem game, because of course there is going to be a crap load of fight scenes to write, and I hate action scenes! I am just no good at the choreography, the flow, or the descriptions! Not to mention I had to go and study for about an hour on the FE Wikia to get skills, names, classes and a whole bunch of other information down pat, and I still feel like I messed up somewhere and didn't do things right!
> 
> Mind you, I am aware this chapter is probably a lot. And that's because... Well, it is. I had a very hard time deciding how I was going to wrap up the "boss marathon" I had set up for myself by combining all four routes in the way I did, and this, in turn, is how I have decided to end things. Now, mind you, this does not mean the Agarthans are beat, nor does it mean their story is over. I have just decided to tweak things regarding Shambala a tad or two. This story, as well as the war, have gone on a very long time... Fatigue has set in, and quite honestly, I don't think I had a marathon of boss fights in me. I am, of course, going to try to continue this in as linear a way as possible for story-telling sake, but I can't say much else without giving out spoilers.
> 
> Anywhosit, it's too damn early for me to be writing up an Author's Note (as I have not slept) and I need to curl up on my mattress and try to figure out how to cuddle up without dying of heatstroke. Whoever says humidity isn't as bad as a dry heat can go put Amyr up somewhere where the sun doesn't shine, and give it a nice big TWIST. -grumpily storms off-
> 
> Mood: Unbalanced.
> 
> Listening To: "Monster Without A Name" - EGOIST (Psycho Pass ED)
> 
> ~ Sky


	28. Bandaging Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Rating: Romance, Family, Friendship, War, Truth. (T)
> 
> Characters: Raine, Dimitri, Warin.
> 
> Summary: One chapter was closing, but the book was far from being over. There were bodies to bury, trappings to remove, wounds to lick, and breaths to take now that the smoke had finally settled. Mysteries upon mysteries will still awaiting a chance to be solved, and it was with mounting anxiety that those involved were finally ready to face the truth. There was so much still unknown and the answers were locked away behind a mouth that had not opened for almost six years. But before all that was the brief respite, the broken bodies, and the ending of a war in the open, in lieu of a war in the shadows.

**Verdant Rain Moon**

**Enbarr Castle Outskirts**

**Twilight**

Raine hissed quietly as the salve stung in the holes that had been pierced clean through her forearm, but she ignored the pain as she continued to slowly, meticulously, apply the concoction she had been given in lieu of seeing a healer. There were too many wounded to attend to, both soldier and civilian alike, and Raine hadn't seen a reason to bother the overly burdened healers with an injury she considered to be rather minor. True, her forearm had been stabbed clean through and she still couldn't move her hand without a frightening amount of pain, but she had no broken bones, and the wounds were round rather than jagged and torn. She could easily patch herself up without risking infection, and so she had done so, retreating to quiet little stoop of an abandoned home that was just within throwing distance of the castle bridge as life went on all about her in a strange, listless, and quiet sort of way.

There was no celebrating in the streets as there had been in Fhirdiad. The fall of Enbarr was nothing to be cheerful over, even if it did mean the official end of hostilities between the three territories of Fódlan. They had achieved one of their goals, but the cost had been steep for many, both in and out of the rebellion. Thales' men had seen fit to nearly destroy the capital in their attempts to ward off the rebellion, and many smallfolk would be returning to ruins rather than their homes once the shock wore off. The rebellion's army had done their best to minimize casualties amongst the civilians, but almost at every turn they had been used as shields, and more bodies of unarmed men and women had been buried already than she cared to count.

The Flame Emperor was dead. There was a dispute, apparently, about what to do with her corpse, but Raine hadn't offered her opinion, nor did she care to if anyone was foolish enough to ask. Thankfully, she had not been sought out since the ending of the battle, and she had been quick to hide amongst her soldiers to keep herself from being further harassed. It was enough for her that the damned woman was dead, but even that had come at a price she hadn't been certain she had been willing to pay. In the heat of the moment, staring down death hadn't frightened her a whit. It never had, because death was something she had already experienced. She knew what would come after for her, the dark and the cold and the _nothing_ , and she could not be afraid of what she knew... but the same didn't hold true for those she cared for, and if her heart was fit to function properly, she was rather sure it may have frozen to stillness after what had happened in the throne room hours ago.

She would never know how in the seven hells that man, who was as battered and exhausted as she was, had managed to summon such speed, but in the blink of eye he had been there to shield her when the dagger Edelgard had been hiding at her waist had been thrown. He had taken it directly in the chest, and the force she had thrown it with had easily pierced through his armour and sank itself to the hilt inside of him. He had not flinched, had not even made a noise of pain, but instead had moved his lance-arm, and Areadbhar traded the blow by sinking itself deep into her stomach in one fluid stroke. The Flame Emperor had died before she had hit the floor, skewered through so easily like any other human being that they'd fought beforehand, and she had been small, bloody, broken and completely unworthy of note when she had fallen on her face and lay still and silent at the foot of her own throne.

The rest of what had happened was mostly a blur, but Raine remembered the dagger clattering to the floor after Dimitri had removed it, and her own fright nearly blinding her to everything else as she grasped at him and demanded to see his wound. He had had the audacity to look surprised, as his armour had been thick enough to take a good inch or two of the blade, but there was still blood, and it was obvious he had been hurt. There had been sharp words and curses, but anything more had been interrupted by the untimely arrival of reinforcements come too late, and so they had parted awkwardly, neither able to look at each other as their heads spun with dark, painful thoughts they didn't yet want to grapple with... and they had not seen one another since.

'Was that how he felt in Grondor? Terrified out of his wits for me? I can't remember... Everything about Garreg Mach came back to me, but that moment is still distant... There was just too much in my head for me to recall it all with any clarity.' The thoughts were cold in her head as she reached with her good hand for the roll of bandages, and mechanically she unwrapped the sturdy, white material to begin the process of wrapping up her wound as best as her limited mobility could permit. She held the end of the bandage with her teeth, carefully starting at the crook of her elbow and winding downwards as her brow furrowed and her mind continued to buzz uncomfortably, 'I can remember what I said... How I felt... But so little about my surroundings. Even his voice was distant, like he was calling for me from somewhere far away... and I wasn't trying to really listen. Perhaps that's why even now it's so hard to recall. I was so tired, then... I just wanted to... rest...'

The thought came with a guilty flinch, but Raine didn't allow for it to stymie her work as she began to spiral the wrapping down her elbow and towards her wrist. She wasn't a healer, but she could bandage herself well in a pinch, and she hadn't forgotten a single lesson from her mercenary days even if that life seemed to be so far behind her that it almost seemed like a dream than a memory. Too often a mercenary troupe was without the use of a reliable healer, and it fell to themselves to see to their wounds much more often than relying on magic. She pulled the wrapping tight, teeth gritting down as she found herself muttering under her breath, "This and then were not the same thing... I'm being hypocritical about this... He saved my life, after I saved his. I shouldn't be angry..."

The choking, smouldering feeling deep in her stomach disagreed with her violently, and she almost felt her fingers lose a hold of the bandaging as it made itself known with a lurch. She re-tightened her grip, cursing herself for her foolishness, but also knowing that it didn't matter how much she told herself that it was all quite logical... because she was furious with him, and with herself. She had been too spent to call upon Sothis' powers, again, and she was rather certain that even if she had been capable that she wouldn't have caught herself in time to stop what had happened. Edelgard had played the part far too well, embracing her pain and her pride simultaneously, and her hand had been quick and her aim deadly. Dimitri's size had saved him. If the dagger had found home in its original target, Raine was well aware she likely would have had it buried in her throat, rather than in his chest when he had made himself her shield.

Nausea swirled through her and loosened her grip, and numbly Raine felt the bandages slip from her limp fingers to bounce down the stairs she had been perched on. She swallowed dryly, fighting the bile rising in her throat, as well as the frozen fingers of fear that were enclosing themselves about her ribcage with piercing strength. It was just too much. Her mother had died before she had even known the warmth of her touch. Her father had been taken from her, after she had exhausted every single possible avenue she could physically comprehend in a desperate attempt to save him. She hadn't been there for Warin in his exile, and she knew full well he had brushed close enough to death that he could, like her, look it clear in the eye without fear or shame because it was an old friend that would embrace him eventually, even if he would do all he could to make it wait its turn.

Dimitri had come too far to die. Especially for _her_. He had a future ahead of him, a path to walk and world to change, and she was not worth such a trade. It didn't matter that she had promised her brother to begin considering her life had value, because there was no question whose life was more important to the impending future. What made it even worse was her knowledge that Dimitri clearly didn't think the same way, hence his surprise and annoyance at her outburst, and she was well aware she wouldn't have a chance at convincing him otherwise. He would never listen to reason, and she would simply be stuck, hating herself for being the reason he was wounded, and wishing he wouldn't be so cavalier with the one life he had to live.

Closing her eyes and summoning a deep, cleansing breath, Raine made a futile attempt to cast all such thoughts and emotions from her head. She had a task to attend to, and many more after, to boot, and the only way she would be capable of continuing on was if she regained her focus. She shook her head once, twice, and wished she had the use of her other arm if only because a slap on one cheek wouldn't be nearly as motivating as one to both. She opened her eyes with a long exhale, settling her arm awkwardly in her lap before she began casting a searching glance at her feet for the roll of bandages that she had lost.

It appeared much closer to her face than she had anticipated, already in a large, callused hand, and Raine jumped despite herself as she realized that single moment of trying to regain her calm had cost her dearly. Somehow, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know how, Dimitri had both found and approached her without her realization, and was now kneeling down in front of her with the bandages in his hand like he had always been there, waiting for her to notice him. He, like her, had shed his armour now that the battle was over, and though he was wearing a dark tunic to cover himself up, the peek of white wrappings still seemed to be everywhere underneath the navy cloth.

Like her, his arm had taken the toll of his wound, and she could spy the tight wrappings about his collarbone, disappearing underneath his shirt but likely extending across his chest. His arm was hanging rather limply at his side, more proof he wasn't trying to use it and more than likely out of pain, but his face was calm and showed no real sign over his actual condition. True, he looked weary and spent from battle, everyone was wearing similar expressions, but he seemed oddly at peace, oddly calm, despite it all. His good cerulean eye was clear as it fixed on her face, holding her still like she had been pinned to the steps where she sat, and his voice was calm, almost conversational as he broke through the silence idly, "It can't be easy bandaging your arm with only one hand. Allow me to help you."

"You've only one good hand, yourself." Raine answered without thinking, and inwardly she winced even as she reached to try and take the roll from his hand. He withdrew it gamely, raising his eyebrows at her remark, and she huffed with annoyance as she understood that while he had made it an offer, he clearly wasn't going to be summarily dismissed. It annoyed her, how he apparently had absolutely zero understanding of nuance or atmosphere, and when she reached again, she was not surprised when he lifted his hand up and well out of her grasp, lest she chose to stand and leap for it. She narrowed her eyes on him, shifting somewhat on the porch as she dropped her good arm and muttered, "I'm perfectly capable of bandaging my own wounds... I don't need any assistance."

"With only two good arms between us, we're better off working together than you are alone." Dimitri returned calmly, and without waiting for her permission, he joined her on the steps. He set aside the roll for a moment to take her arm carefully into his lap, extending it as gently as it could go without causing her pain as he eyed her half-finished job speculatively. She was right in that she was entirely capable of caring for herself, but it hadn't looked as if she was having an easy time of it when he had spotted her working. With the edge of the roll in her teeth, and her one hand working until she had suddenly just dropped her tools, Dimitri had initially wondered why she was toiling silently in solitude when help was merely a call away.

There were soldiers everywhere, from each and every region, and though most were busy attending to some task or another, he doubted anyone would mind sparing a few minutes to patch a comrade's wounds. Still, she had chosen to hide herself away from most of the Kingdom's men, remaining near the castle but also clearly out of most people's view, and had made a very clear decision to isolate herself. It had irked him, and when she had dropped the bandages and frozen in retrieving them, there had been no question in his mind that approaching her now, rather than later, was the right decision. Even as she sat silent and frowning at him, he still didn't doubt he was doing the right thing, and he was slow and careful, trading the roll off each time his own hand could not complete the circuit fully without needing to manipulate her arm so she could finish it herself before returning it back to him.

In less than two minutes they had finished the task, wrapping her forearm from wrist to elbow, and he carefully tied the ends of the bandages in a tight, unobtrusive knot as close to her wrist as he could manage. She made to pull away, still wearing a frown and not quite looking at him, but Dimitri carefully grasped at her fingers to discourage her escape. She couldn't tug herself out of his grip without hurting herself, and she had no real desire to lurch away from him anyway, and he knew it just as well as she did. Her fingers were cold in his palm, proof of the severity of her wounds, and he ran his thumb slowly, purposefully across her knuckles as he muttered more to himself than to her, "They're cold... Are they numb, too? I imagine it hurts to move them. You were lucky not to break any bones, but the damage was enough nonetheless, I can guess."

"It hurts more than it feels numb... But the pain will likely pass soon enough." Raine admitted with a small shrug of her shoulders, and she watched as Dimitri slowly, carefully, lifted her hand to his mouth to brush a gentle kiss to her fingertips. His mouth, and his hand both felt very warm to the touch, which only made her wonder just how cold her skin had to feel in his grasp, even without the tight bandaging. She had lost a fair amount of blood before she had managed to apply a tourniquet, but she knew better than to complain. She had come off lucky in comparison to her students, and to many, many others. A few scrapes and bruises, and four deep, clean wounds in her forearm was almost nothing. "It's really not as bad as it seems, or feels... I'm lucky. I should have the use of my arm back by the middle of next moon. Maybe earlier."

"There shouldn't be any fighting in the interim, so perhaps you will heal quickly. There's much to be done yet, but thankfully most of it won't require wielding a blade... For the time being." Dimitri agreed with a small nod, but his eye betrayed his word as he placed her hand on his knee and continued to rub warmth back into her skin. She was still avoiding looking at him, her lips pulled back into a frown as her eyebrows furrowed, and the sight made him ache more than his wounds ever could. She felt so fragile, and looked even moreso, sitting on a ruined Imperial porch without her armour, still streaked with ash and blood and bruises, and looking as weary as someone who had aged a century overnight. Still, she was scowling, which meant she wasn't entirely exhausted, and the thought heartened him even though he was well aware he was wading into another battlefield as he asked her directly, pointedly, "Are you still angry with me?"

"Yes. Very."

The response came curtly and sharply, as jagged as a blade, and Dimitri almost winced as he felt her pointedly withdrawing her hand from his grasp even though it clearly was uncomfortable for her to do. She shifted in her seat, turning her body away from him, but she did not try to rise to her feet to leave. He wasn't sure if it was because she couldn't, or had decided she was ready for this particular fight, but he soon decided it didn't quite matter. The awkwardness, the choking silence and pain and uncertainty was far too much for him, and he had to combat it before it could fester and choke at him more than it already had. That panicked look in her eye, those damning words of reproach had all stung and caught him off guard, but now there had been a handful of hours since they had stood together in the throne room, and he had settled enough to face it, and her, without fear or surprise.

Dimitri folded his hands in his own lap, tilting his head slightly as he studied Raine closely. She had wrapped her arms about herself as best she could, shutting herself off and away from him, and her eyes were still averted. She was doing her damned best to ignore him despite how close they were, and the anger was nearly radiating off of her. It was a quiet sort of wrath, similar to how he was used to seeing her express her ill feelings, but he admitted it was the first time in quite some time since she had set it on him. Even her fury after the parley had not been directed at him, she was much more furious with Edelgard than she was with him, but now he was her target, and he knew it was his responsibility to take it, and address it. "You are aware it's quite hypocritical of you to be so angry with me, aren't you? Would you not have done the same, were our positions reversed? _Didn't you,_ once already?"

"That was different." Raine heard the words escape her despite her better judgement, and she hated the way he cocked an eyebrow, looking at her with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. It wasn't exactly as if he was wrong to be looking at her that way, she was well aware she had to sound absolutely ridiculous, all things considered, but she stubbornly wouldn't permit his expression to get the reaction she knew he wanted from her. She looked at him sharply, frown deepening as she insisted quietly, firmly, in the face of his disbelief, "It _was_ different. My brother can say it all he wants, that this rebellion would crumble without me, but that's just not the truth of it. My life isn't nearly as important as yours is. And that isn't my lack of self-worth speaking, it's simply the facts. You are the future king of Faerghus. Without you, who will the Kingdom turn to? As far as I know, there isn't another heir. This war has been about freeing all of Fódlan from the clutches of the Emperor, and the puppet-masters behind her... For Faerghus, and for the Alliance. The Alliance has Lorenz, now that Claude is shaking off his birthright, but who does the Kingdom have? You need to live. You can't be throwing your life away for me."

Dimitri said nothing for a long moment, digesting her words, and feeling his stomach clenching unhappily on them as they reverberated like thunder in his eardrums. The logic was sound. Of course it was, it was _her_ logic, and he knew just as well as she did that his life did indeed have greater importance to the people he led, and the war that was being fought, than he sometimes cared to admit. Yet... It didn't sit right all the same. There was something blatantly wrong about the way she spoke, about the way she looked even as she said the truthful words, and it made his eye narrow on her as he began slowly, "You may have a point there, logically speaking, yet... That isn't why you're angry, is it? There's more than pragmatism on your mind. You can't hide that from me, no matter what it is you're saying. Tell me the truth, and not just the facts, Raine. Be honest."

"You can't die on my account. I will never forgive you if you do." Again, the words rushed out before better sense could allow for her to bite them back, and Raine was aware of a heat surging deep in her face and also setting her chest aflame. She couldn't quite tell whether it was anger, shame, or something else, but it was all-consuming, and demanded a reaction she had been swallowing down for too long. A detached part of her was laughing, amused by her hypocrisy and her desperation to hide it, and another was exulting even as she glared at him and all but spat the words at him, "I didn't get a chance to know my mother. My father's diary is all well and good, but I don't _know_ her like Warin does, and I won't ever be able to fill in that hole inside of me. And Father is gone, too, now... All I have left is Warin, and you. And if I lose either of you, I don't know what I'll do with myself. Especially if you die _because_ of me. The guilt alone would kill me. You can't die. I'd much prefer to be the one to go first. I can't lose anyone else. You can't protect me if it means you'll die in my place. You have to survive this damned war, no matter how selfishly you have to act. Even if it means my death. You have to, damn you! I can't be left behind again! I'd rather die than lose you!"

Dimitri watched the anger rising in her eyes, as well as that familiar sparkle of tears that she was completely oblivious to in the middle of her outrage. It cut like a swordstroke, hearing her speak so openly of her grief, of her inability to cope, and all because of an instinctive action that he could not regret no matter what kind of pain it caused her. It would be the same if the situations were reversed, and the thought made him ache all the more deeply, and his body reacted for him without thought or care. His good arm reached, pulling gently at her shoulder and curling her into his chest, and he ducked his head against hers, feeling her trembling as she bowed her head to hide her face in his tunic.

She didn't struggle, though whether it was because of her wound or because she truly wanted this, Dimitri didn't know. He put it aside, wrapping his arm as snugly and protectively about her as he could manage as the damp of her tears began to seep through the thin fabric he was wearing. Her sobs were silent, stifled by gritted teeth and a tight, white-knuckled grip on the leg of his trousers, but he didn't mind it as he squeezed her closer. His voice was gruff, strained with the leashed emotions he was fighting as he held her carefully but tightly, "And _I'd_ rather die than lose _you._ This is one thing we will never be able to agree on... One thing I will never be able to give you... and I apologize for the grief it causes you, but I cannot, and will not, do anything about it. My body will move, time after time, no matter what, to protect you if you're in harm's way. I cannot stop it, nor do I wish to. I told you once before that you are my reason for living... To defend you is more than instinct. It's my driving force. You are my world. If I lost you due to my own foolishness, or lack of action... I would also die of guilt. You can understand that, even if you don't agree, can't you?"

Raine hated him for the soft, apologetic way he whispered those words in his ear, and even moreso for how damned convincing he sounded as he said them. He didn't curse or chastise her, didn't call her out on her hypocrisy or childishness... Rather, he embraced her, shared his own fears and concerns with her, and even apologized for his inability to give her what she demanded so carelessly of him. Her hand grabbed down all the more tightly on what was in reach, desperate to keep him close, and she shook her head as the tears ran fast and free down her reddened cheeks. They burnt of shame and anger and grief, and she wondered if this was what it felt like to have her heart breaking as she pushed her face against his chest and whispered brokenly, "I don't want to lose anyone else... I _can't_ lose anyone else... Not you, not Warin, not anyone in our house... No one. I'm so tired of death. I'm so tired of watching people die, and being unable to stop it. I can't save everyone. I know this. But it doesn't make it hurt any less when we return to Garreg Mach and mourn the ones we buried when we left. Asking everyone to survive just because I don't know what to do with all this grief is selfish of me, but... Please... Please just tell me you'll live. Even if it's a lie, just once, please... Please tell me you'll make it through the rest of this damned struggle no matter what."

"Only if you promise me the same. Even if it's a lie." Dimitri answered quietly, and he was still as she raised her chin, eyes troubled and frightened and so damned vulnerable as she stared up at him silently. The tears were ebbing, but they had left their marks on her pale skin, and he leaned down to kiss them away without a second thought. She flinched at first, trying automatically to draw back, but his arm tightened on her waist, and soon enough she was still and accepting as his lips brushed gently over her face. He cursed his useless arm, wishing he could grasp her closer, tighter, and it made his voice rough as he almost growled, "I won't give you those words unless you give them to me, as well. I need you to survive this. You gave me my truth... What of yours? I haven't come this far just to abandon your struggle, even if you put it aside for mine. You need to survive this, for your own reasons, too. You need to cast off your chains, and live a life you've chosen for yourself for once. I won't know peace until you have that chance at freedom. I'll promise you my survival if you promise me yours, Raine."

His hoarse, gruff voice, the feeling of his hot chest and his strong arm encircling her waist made her head spin, and for a brief, mad moment, Raine wanted to yank his mouth to hers and never release him. A wild, insane sort of need was burning in her veins, making her throb for the want of him, and she wondered errantly why it was crashing over her so strongly now. He sounded so fervent, so pained, but she wanted him all the same. Her good hand reached for him thoughtlessly, fingers brushing against his cheek to feel his body heat directly, and she murmured thoughtlessly as she gazed into the burning cerulean eye that held her captive and made her entire body shudder, "I want you so much... It's mad of me, but I want you so much right now that my entire body is on fire. I know where we are, I know we aren't alone, but I couldn't care less if they saw right now. I just... want you."

"You're lucky I can't take you because of our injuries... Or I'd sorely be considering it." Dimitri muttered, and he felt a dim pulse of alarm as he realized just how honest he was being as his mouth tenderly pressed a kiss to the corner of her own. His trousers were so tight that it was painful, and she was so damned soft against him that it wasn't helping that caged beast in his head a whit. He could well imagine how it would feel, to push her down against the staircase and take her right then and there, all eyes on them be damned, and his body throbbed with the mad desire for it. He wanted to feel her against him, about him, to ensure with every last inch of his body that she was still alive, still there, no matter what it would cost them. The thought brought a bitter smile to his face as he silently chained up that monster again, forcing it to heel and making his every motion superbly gentle despite his mounting hunger, and he nuzzled his cheek to hers as he whispered raggedly, "You'll make a beast of me again if you keep speaking like this... but don't call it madness. This war has wrought too heavy a toll on all of us. Wanting to be with the one you love after the dust settles, to feel alive with them... That's only natural. How else would we know that despite it all, the two of us had escaped it? And even if it is madness... I'd indulge in it, in you, endlessly if I was capable."

"That's only making it worse." Raine admitted breathlessly, and she bit her lower lip to fight the urge to take his mouth with hers and yank him down overtop of her despite her better sense. They both were far too wounded to be entertaining such things, and there were far too many prying eyes about to even consider it. He called it natural, even admitted he'd indulge in it if he could, but someone had to hold onto the last vestiges of their sanity before it all came crashing down. She nuzzled into his neck, pointedly avoiding those lips that she knew would drive rational thought out of her head if she let them, and sighed as she curled her arm as best she could about him, "I love you... and I promise I'll do what I can to survive this... For you, and for myself. So will you please indulge me, and tell me the same? That you'll live, and won't leave me alone?"

"I'll live, Raine. I won't abandon you." Dimitri answered her huskily, speaking into her hair as she clutched at him like a lifeline and made his body ache with grief for her. It was so damned rare to see her vulnerable, but he was well aware it was a long time coming. The death of Edelgard meant much more than the end of the hostilities between the three territories, and the weight of their success was crashing down hard upon them. It meant the next chapter was readying to open, and he knew full well she had not given an ounce of thought to it. She was afraid of what it meant, of what was to come next, and she was afraid most of all of losing her family even if she had won one war already. To have it all come hitting her at once had to be terrifying, and he nuzzled her gently as he whispered comfortingly, "We'll end this the way we started it... Side by side. I promise."

"Mm..." Raine closed her eyes, unable to say anything more as she took as much comfort as she could from the strong embrace he offered, and the sweet words they both knew he had no right to speak to her. They both knew their reality, no matter how much they hoped for something different. It was simply the way of being a soldier. Death was always lurking about every corner, behind every enemy, and they had not won everything yet. There was still so much more to do, so much more to accomplish, and even after that... Raine shivered despite herself, and almost immediately shoved the thought away with as much force as she could muster. She didn't want to think of it. She felt lost enough as it was. The future was even more terrifying than the present. The less she thought of it, the easier it was to function... and here, at least, sitting where she was in Dimitri's arms, she could try to pretend that things would be all right regardless.

Dimitri said nothing else even though he felt her tension, and slowly, carefully, he forced his other arm to loop itself about her waist so he could at least attempt to hold her as he wanted. She indulged him silently, nestling herself into his chest to make it all the easier on him, and he smiled wryly into her hair as he wondered if she knew how much more difficult she made things. It wasn't as if she knew, or was doing it on purpose, but her desire to give him what he wanted only ever made him crave for more. He was selfish and greedy, but she never really made an effort to stop him. If anything, she only made it worse by giving in, time and time again... and it made him wonder, as his hand moved errantly onto hers to rub gently at the cool, numb skin, 'If I were to ask her now... She wouldn't refuse me, would she...? I could ask her for anything... and she'd throw away her future for me in a blink of an eye. How am I to give her a choice, when she already makes one without any consideration for herself...?'

Slowly, surely, Dimitri felt her relaxing as he held her close and snug in the fading twilight. The sounds of work continued about them unabated, and soldiers continued to rush to and fro on the ruined streets, but they were well-enough hidden to not be noticed by anyone focused on their errands. He was idly glad for her choice of a hiding place, as it meant for once he could simply enjoy the comfort of holding her without needing to be sequestered away from the world... and he realized with a small, awkward smile that perhaps he was even greedier than he thought. It wasn't enough to be all she thought of, all she cared about, in either of their dorms. He wanted to ensure it was the same outside of it, in the small, rare peaceful moments that they could capture whenever they came, too.

"Dimitri... I..."

"Hm?" Dimitri lifted his head at the sound of her quiet murmuring, and he glanced down curiously as he watched her anxiously pulling at the sleeve of her shirt. She had rolled it down to cover her bandages, and was now fiddling with the hem of it in a surprising display of embarrassment. Her face had pinked somewhat, though there was no longer any hints of the fact that she had been crying anymore, and she was once again no longer looking at him. Rather, she was staring down at their clasped hands, watching as he once again rubbed warmth into her cold skin, and the thought made him want to pull her chin up so she would look directly at him. He resisted the urge, instead permitting himself to continue to run his thumb across her knuckles, and he questioned her quietly, intimately, as she sat anxiously in his arms, "Yes...? What is it?"

"When this is over-"

"Raine. Dimitri."

Dimitri inwardly cursed at the sound of Warin's voice interrupting his sister, but he swallowed down the instinctive surge of annoyance and frustration as he felt Raine immediately snap to attention. All hints of awkwardness and embarrassment were wiped away from her in an instant, replaced with that strict and stern professionalism she always wore when it came time to don her cloak of a commander, and he let her go regretfully as she stood up and skipped down the stairs to meet her brother on the street. He stayed where he was for a moment, mourning the loss of her before he ruefully pushed himself to his feet as well, and he studied Warin's face closely to note the tension that had nothing to do with the previous battle that was fixing the man's jaw into such a tight line. He looked quietly furious, seething, almost, despite the circumstances, and the thought made him frown as he approached him questioningly, "What is it?"

"A handful of things, if you want the truth of it. The most pertinent being a letter that was slipped to Claude, shortly after the end of the fighting. A letter from Hubert, of all things." Warin's answer was clipped and curt, and his navy eyes were chips of blazing, deep-sea ice that burnt rather than froze. Both Raine and Dimitri looked to him sharply, confused and wondering, and he continued for them both without missing a moment as he understood the pressing need for time, "A handful of his men surrendered to us, after he was killed in the initial invasion. When the princess was killed, they saw fit to approach Claude with a missive he'd prepared, in the event of their loss. He wrote of our pale-faced friends... Apparently, he knows their location, and saw fit to leave it to us to "finish what they started", so to speak."

"But you said Thales was dead." Raine pointed out, her own eyes narrowing as her back stiffened in unconscious anxiety as she watched the emotions flickering rapidly through her brother's irises. Too quickly for anyone who didn't know him to recognize them, but she knew him better than anyone, save for possibly Shamir. He was quietly seething, yes, but he was also concerned, worried, and frustrated. Something was digging at him, something he didn't want to say yet, and she pressed him sternly as she felt her left hand reaching for her blade unconsciously, "What use does the location of their base have to us besides clearing out the nest? Unless you don't actually believe you finished the job?"

"I never said the bastard was dead. I skewered the man, true enough, but he still had enough energy to teleport away from us again before I could take his head. And as far as I'm concerned, until I see his corpse at my feet, I'm not about to believe he's truly dead." Warin corrected her with a shake of his head, and he felt no satisfaction as Raine flinched away from him with a tightening of her own jaw. It had been a relief to her, he had known, to hear that he and his men had cornered Thales, but the truth of his death was still an unknown to them. And Warin knew better than to underestimate the powers of his opponent, even if he had been left with a lance bloodied from tip to tail. "I want to follow the map that Hubert left, and find out for myself if he truly is or not. If he ran, their stronghold is where he would retreat to. And cleaning out the nest is what we have to do next, anyway, so I see no reason to ignore it. We can agree on that much, can't we?"

"Yes, we can, but that doesn't make me happy to hear... I don't want to imagine walking into an ambush, so soon after this mess. And it will be an ambush, no matter the losses they took here today. Their numbers are greater than we know, and we have no information to go on but a location. We need time to heal, reassess, and plan before we think of another movement." Raine replied after a long moment of thought, and she watched Warin's cheek twitch with annoyance, but she well understood why he was reacting so strongly. He had had the man dead to rights, finally cornered... and again, he had slipped through his fingers. He was right to be angry, and to be eager to finish the job he had given himself, but Raine wouldn't allow for his impatience to rule him. "The end of the next moon, Warin, I promise you that by then we'll have had enough time to get ourselves together for another foray. But not until then."

"I can deal with that. But what else I have to say needs to be handled immediately. We've found Rhea. That was also in Hubert's letter. Her location, and the fact that she's been left alive, despite it all. Claude sent his men to look, and they've sent word back already. Seteth and Flayn are waiting for you. Claude, too." Warin returned bluntly, and Raine's sharp inhale was almost a hiss at the name he didn't want to speak as much as he knew he had to. Surprise flickered in her eyes for a moment before it was replaced with a mask of calm detachment he knew she didn't feel, but he could hardly blame her. After all, he hadn't been thinking of the archbishop, either, and to hear word of her being found in the depths of the dungeons of Enbarr had been quite a surprise to him, too. They had been far too focussed on the enemy ahead of them to think much farther beyond her, and now they had no time to prepare. "I'll be tagging along, if you don't mind... I hear she's weakened greatly from her imprisonment, but she can answer a handful of questions while Flayn attends to her. We can flip a coin for who gets to interrogate her later at Garreg Mach."

"Don't even joke about it... She was here all this time, and if Thales was also here, that means she was used just as Flayn likely was all those years ago... and ever since her imprisonment, to boot. Things make a lot more sense, but it also raises many more questions I want answered if I think of things that way." Raine's answer was cutting, and for a brief moment, a flare of wrath shone in her eyes before she abruptly quenched it with a grinding of her teeth and a momentary clench of her hand about her sword hilt. She dropped her hand after a long, irritated pause, and she shook her head as she looked back to her brother almost sternly, "Priorities first though, Warin... Especially in the current company. No questions about Father, or Mother. Not yet."

Warin shrugged his shoulders carelessly, looking for all the world as if he was unbothered by her instruction, but his eyes slid to Dimitri nonetheless to prove it was merely a facade, and not one he was holding up with much effort. Dimitri returned his stare with quiet resignation, clearly ready to be told he was not welcome for such an interrogation, but Warin said nothing as he returned his eyes to Raine. Her choice of words, and her decision to speak them so freely in front of the future king was enough to say everything he needed to know, and he made things clear as he replied calmly, "As you want. But if you're bringing the princeling, I'm bringing Shamir when the time comes. Is that fair enough to ask?"

"She has every right to know, if you've given her Mother's ring. You'll tell her yourself regardless, so I see no point in excluding her." Raine shrugged in response, but her small smile was genuine as she watched Dimitri's eye widen in surprise as he looked sharply to Warin. The older man looked somewhat bothered to be dragged out so unceremoniously in front of the prince, but Raine paid it no mind as she indulged in the moment. It was pleasing, knowing how deeply her brother wanted Shamir to be involved in things he usually kept so fiercely to his chest, but she continued all the same as gently as she could, "But with Flayn, Seteth, and likely Claude all being present for the initial conversation, I don't want a word of our family being brought up... Can we agree with that?"

"H-Hold a moment..." Dimitri broke in, and the look of sudden nervous awkwardness on his face made both siblings raise their eyebrows as they turned to look at them. He felt a flush working its way up his cheeks and into his ears, and he cursed himself for his childish reaction, but he was genuinely at a loss as he looked from sister to brother and back again in confusion. He was surprised to hear Raine speaking so openly of her family in front of him, especially with Warin present, and the implicit suggestion that he was to be involved, without even a question of needing Warin's permission, was something he couldn't help but address awkwardly, "When was it decided that I could be present for this...? Should this not be left solely to the two of you?"

"Dimitri, I've already told you everything I have to give you about myself. You've come this far alongside me. You're entitled to the truth." Raine almost chuckled with gentle exasperation at the lost look on her lover's face, and she extended her hand, gently running her fingers along the back of his before taking a firm hold. He returned the grip almost at once, watching her closely, seriously, and she was glad for it as she continued with a calm she didn't entirely feel despite her voice as she explained, "And if you hear it directly from her mouth, that's all the better. Whatever I may tell you afterward will only be tinged with my bias. I'll need an outsider's opinion to keep me from acting hastily... Both Warin and I will. We've been nursing this grudge for far too long... We have a right to the truth, yes, but unfortunately we also have an obligation to take in what we're told as objectively as we can. We can't do that by ourselves. Everything else Rhea has to tell us should be heard by all parties involved, which you are one of anyway, yes?"

Dimitri hesitated, unsure of how to reply to such a thing even as Raine's hand gently squeezed his own in a comforting sort of fashion. He couldn't quite agree that it was entirely his place, even with her clear permission, though a small part of him was selfishly pleased. He wanted to know the truth, so he could know where to bring down the hammer on the reason why, for so many nights, she had woken up and called herself a monster after her nightmares of things she could not control, or had not been responsible for. He suspected, just as they did, that Rhea was the cause, and if she was to admit things openly, then he would know where to lay the blame... and he would stand side by side with them, if they chose to exact justice for their wounds.

"As the future king of Faerghus, you're entitled to the truths of this country. It will help you lead in the future, as well as establish how your kingdom will continue along with the Church of Seiros after your coronation." Warin shrugged his shoulders as Dimitri continued to look silent and lost, and he folded his arms over his chest as he waited for a rebuttal that did not come. Raine was watching him closely, too, gently concerned for him, but Warin caught his eye and held it as he continued flatly, "And as Raine said... The choice with whom we share our secrets is a choice _we_ are permitted to make for ourselves. If you're uncomfortable being there, that is one thing... but there is no question in her mind that you should be present. Nor in mine, for that matter."

Dimitri again didn't answer, unsure for a moment as he felt the weight of Warin's words crashing heavily on his shoulders. It was another sign of acceptance, of tacit approval he had not yet earned, but despite it all he craved it. It was proof that he was not inherently selfish, that he wasn't entirely delusional, and every inch of him yearned for the acknowledgement that he was doing right by Raine in Warin's eyes. He swallowed it all down roughly however, stirred when he felt Raine's hand once again squeeze down gently on his own. Her fingers pressed into his palm, a silent question as well as reassurance, and his eye flickered to her as he took in her calm and comforting expression.

'Even now... Even here, she's putting it all aside for my sake... What am I doing...?' Dimitri chastised himself harshly, and he slowly returned the soft grip on his hand as he shook away his concerns and fears. They didn't matter. She was asking for him, and it was his duty to answer her call. His feelings, thoughts, or opinions were of no weight, and he could not flounder when she needed him. He straightened his back, wrapping his fingers firmly about her much smaller hand to envelop it in his strong grip before he said with a surety he did not entirely feel, but knew he needed, "Very well... I shall abide by your wishes. Let us go, then. There's no need to waste time... and we've precious little to waste as it is, even now. Go, and I shall follow."

"You'll stand _with_ me. Not in my shadow." Raine corrected him quietly, and the men present all twitched in surprise at the firmness in her voice despite the volume. Her eyes were flickering like a candle, a quiet but still burning sort of emotion hiding in the seafoam-green of her irises, and her gaze switched from Dimitri and then to her brother, but back again in an instant. She held her chin a little higher, daring defiance and staking her challenge as she continued in that same firm voice that spoke of no hesitation or doubt, "You are not my subordinate, nor are you my student. You are the future king of Faerghus, and the man I love, and you do not stand behind me. And the same goes for you, Warin. You're not a lieutenant anymore. You're a captain and commander of your own making now, and you don't stand behind me, either. All three of us are equals. No one overshadows the other. No one's needs or wants outweigh the others. We are all together on this, on equal footing."

"I'd normally argue that, but when you've got that look in your eye, that's just asking for a beating. I've taken more than enough lumps today, thank you, so I'll cede to you for the moment. But don't think you've won anything just because I'm being prudent, little sister." Warin's answer came quick and amused, and his smile was wry when his sister returned it with a withering glare that even Dimitri shrank back from unconsciously. They both could feel the heat of her annoyance, but Warin held no fear in his heart, not even from her. He turned errantly on his heel, crossing his arms behind his head as he began to take his leave for the castle gates, "We'll pick this up again later, when we both feel a bit more energetic, shall we?"

"Typical..." Raine muttered with a shake of her head, but her lips were quirked into the faintest smile as she slid her arm carefully into Dimitri's to entice him along. He followed her willingly enough, still looking a little bit lost and exasperated, but his feet moved with hers, and his arm tightened gently on hers as well as she led him on. The thought made her soften despite her annoyance with her brother, and she chanced a look upwards to see that Dimitri was watching Warin's back with a thoughtful look as they followed after him to the entrance where Flayn, Seteth, and Claude were supposedly waiting. She brushed her shoulder to his to catch his attention without pausing her pace, and her voice was gentle and quiet as she questioned, "Are you worried?"

"Yes, but likely not for the reason you might think." Dimitri admitted after a moment's pause, and he looked over to see her questioning glance before once more transferring his gaze over to Warin's back. He looked unbothered, not allowing for anyone to ask him of his emotions and instead barrelling forward without regard, but Dimitri was aware it was nothing but an act. How long at Warin been burning for this moment? And to be told he had to wait, wait even longer, for the absolution he was craving? It made him take pause, and he continued with a low, quiet exhale as he confessed, "Even now, you and your brother are waiting... How long will you continue to? I agree with you, that there are larger matters at hand that need attending to, but even in the midst of it, you will just... allow things to lie?"

Raine didn't answer immediately, listening to the concern and the confusion in his voice, and she allowed it to permeate her entire being as they walked for a minute in silence. It felt warm, hearing him express his worries over her and her brother, and she wasn't sure if she had the words to express her own gratitude for it. It didn't matter that he and Warin were still not entirely settled, or that his own position meant he would need to eventually play the game of politics with the Church of Seiros when all was said and done, because his focus was on the here and now... and on them. She followed his gaze to her brother, knowing underneath his calm posture there was years of tension burnt deep into his very bones, and she admitted with a sigh of her own, "I don't think we have much of a choice, to be frank. Rhea may be alive, but her condition I imagine must be horrible... Even we have enough mercy in us to not interrogate her freshly released from imprisonment. She'll no doubt need moons to heal... and we'll need moons to settle this mess that was left for us to clean up. True, in the meantime we'll reside in the same place, but... I don't think it'll be wise to address her properly about what we want until we've nothing left to do."

"Why would it be unwise?"

"I have to see this through to the end. The entire end, mind you. That means going as far as I must to bury the whole of our enemies, if Thales indeed survived. If anything Rhea might tell me about my family, about myself, might cause me to waver in my resolve, I'd rather not know of it until my work is finished." Raine answered with a slow, tired shake of her head, and her eyes flickered down to her boots as she felt a weight of shame placing itself squarely on her shoulders. Petulance, frustration, and wrath all were at war in her chest, demanding to know how much more she had to do with the duties and obligations she had never asked for, but she knew better by now than to listen to the complaints. "If I stop fighting, then Warin will refuse to continue, too. And who else will follow? I was told to lead. I can't allow my emotions to cloud that obligation. Until those in the shadows are defeated, until there is no more threat to Fódlan, I cannot stop. Warin knows this just as well as I do. He wasn't even considering the notion of interrogating her until _later_ because of that."

Dimitri couldn't help but frown, his eyebrows furrowing deeply at her words despite himself. It was true, Warin had been the one to initially bring up the idea of putting themselves aside before Raine had made him reassure her of it, but the thought still did not sit well with him. It just seemed like another delay, another punishment, when they had suffered enough already to have gotten this far. Yet neither were complaining, but instead tried to make light of the situation as if it was all they could do. It made his jaw tighten, and he asked dryly, unable to entirely coat the venom in his voice with wry humour as they could, "Then you'll consider your truths to be a reward of sorts, after all of this comes to an end?"

"Heh. Not a way I'd put it, but I suppose that's not a bad way to look at things. All things considered, at any rate. A reward would be half-decent, wouldn't it?" Raine admitted with a low chuckle, but there was no humour in her voice as they checked their pace at the open doors of the great castle. The knights guarding the way waved them inside, pointing at the small staircase hidden at the corner of the wide entryway for them to follow Warin down. Again, at the end of another long hallway were another pair of guards, and this time they beckoned them to the left, pointing their way now that Warin had disappeared ahead on the path to the dungeons that lay very likely in the middle of the castle grounds, and buried deeply below.

Another staircase welcomed them at the end of the third hall, though this one was hidden behind a large iron door that had been thrown open, and inside was darkness as it led them down deep. Raine took it without pause, her good hand reaching for the wall to steady herself as the staircase led them down into a spiral, tight and knotted and growing ever darker despite the few candles that had been buried into the walls above to show the outline of the painted steps beneath their feet. She spoke idly again now that they were away from the soldiers who were keeping guard of the path, and her voice was low, yet still it echoed as the spiral took them deeper underground with each and every step, "We started this fight... And it's in our blood to end it. No mercenary leaves anything half-finished. I won't lie and say I'll enjoy it, or that it will be easy. It'll be hard, probably the hardest thing I'll ever do, having to live with that woman again and suppress the urge to tear out all the knowledge she's been hiding from us... but I have no choice. I have one last obligation to fulfil. One last duty to do. She can take back her mantle of leadership, and then Warin and I can finally put Garreg Mach to our backs. Though... Saying it, it tastes bittersweet. I'll miss the monastery. I'll miss my students. But I can't stay there. I would never have peace if I did."

Dimitri ached to press her, but the rest of her words were swallowed in silence as the stairway finally bottomed out into a low-ceiling hall that was dark and grim despite the luxurious trappings that lay above. Not so far from the entrance into the grand castle of Enbarr was also the grim entrance of the great prison, and Dimitri was unsure if he was more surprised, or bemused to know that such a sprawling maze of corridors and cells lay beneath it. The stairway had been too long and spiralling, with only one exit at the very bottom, and the world they arrived in was musty, crowded, and ill-lit with sparsely placed torches that guarded the thick iron doors that barred away the cells for an unknown amount of prisoners.

His stomach churned despite itself with memory of the cells in the deep cold of Fhirdiad, and he could not help but notice just how similar they looked. The walls were cold, the iron black and imposing in the dim light, and the atmosphere itself seemed to be a thick chain about the neck in an attempt to choke out all thoughts of comfort, warmth, and freedom. No guards stood at attention, there was no need when there was so much farther to go deeper inside and down, but his back stiffened all the same. He could picture the staircases that lay ahead, tunnelling even deeper into the dark and away from the sun, and unbidden his body shuddered with memory of screaming, of anguish, of the wails of the forgotten and doomed that he did not know personally, but had joined with all the same so many years ago.

His eye closed tightly as he swallowed down loudly, fighting the impulse of panic and fear at the surge of memory and familiarity. Even the very air seemed to stink the same way, though he knew it was likely only an illusion brought on by too many nightmares. His stay in the dungeons of Fhirdiad had not been long, but it had been enough to leave its scars deeply buried in his psyche. He had been alone in his cell, chained and bound until even his great strength could do nothing to break himself free, and he had been prepared to die, to lose his head for a crime he had not committed, until the doors had been buckled in and Dedue and his men had come to free him. It had been a lifetime ago, but in a moment's breath he was back in the filth and the dark, huddled in a corner and wrapped in countless steel chains and weights, lifeless and hopeless at the realization that all had been taken from him by force, and he had no way to get vengeance... No way back to freedom and hope and warmth ever again.

"Dimitri... Hey. Look at me."

A soft hand touched his cheek, pulling him abruptly back, and Dimitri was aware his breathing had turned heavy and harsh as his body trembled uncontrollably with panic. His eye flew open, focussing as Raine stood in front of him, her hand pressed against his face as she watched him with concern furrowed deeply into her brow. Her seafoam-coloured eyes were pained and anxious, aching for him, and he was silent and unsure as he realized the ghosts had returned, grasping with skeletal fingers to pull him down before he had been able to even recognize their hold on him. How long had he been standing there, frozen in a waking nightmare without the realization that he was not a prisoner nor a boy anymore, and his chains had long ago been thrown off of him? He didn't know, and he was afraid to ask.

His skin felt cold and clammy, and his fingers twitched helplessly at his side as they yearned for a weapon, but he had left it with Rodrigue and did not wish to see it after having used it to kill his step-sister earlier that day. He could do nothing but stare helplessly back at her, jaw tight and his breathing unsteady despite all of his desperate attempts to swallow down the hammering of his heart in his throat. He knew it was pathetic, returning to the dungeons of Enbarr as a liberator, only to shrink back in fear of the memory of his time as a prisoner in Fhirdiad, but the hands were clasping again, pulling, and he couldn't resist it as much as he wished to.

Warmth touched his lips, and Dimitri inhaled sharply as complete reality returned to him with the force of a stroke of a sword to his middle. Raine's hand curled lovingly into his hair, tugging him down to her height as she stood on tiptoe to kiss him, and he felt the cold and the shadows fleeing from her in desperation. She pressed herself firmly into his hanging arms, flattening her body against his chest, and instinct took over where panic had fled, and his good arm reached automatically to hang itself across her hips and pull her closer. His mouth responded thoughtlessly, pressing back with a sudden flare of suppressed hunger, and he heard a soft little moan that tugged him all the more back into the light of the familiar.

Raine allowed for it, her body quivering as his tongue slipped past her open lips to claim and caress, and the heavy weight of his arm on her back was suddenly hot and burning. He kissed her like a man desperate for air, dying to drink all of her in, and a mad, yearning wish made her ache with the idea of those strong arms picking her up off her feet and pressing her to the wall so he could take her until he was satisfied. How many times had he come awake beside her with a harsh gasp, hands grasping so tightly at the sheets that they tore underneath his strength as he fought the nightmares even as his body surged back to consciousness under the fear? She knew well how to bring him out of his panic, just as he did to her, and she didn't hesitate when she saw his gaze was distant and wide and empty even when he opened his eye.

His hold was tight with leashed hunger that his body was desperate to release, and she felt the same burn even as she placed her hand gently on his chest to push him back after a few heated, delicious moments. His breath came ragged on her lips as they parted, now hitched for another reason entirely, but she didn't mind as she curled her arm about his neck to urge him to lean down and rest his chin on her shoulder. She nuzzled her cheek to his, hugging him as best she could with her one functioning arm, and her voice was soft, calming and quiet when she murmured into his ear as she had done so many times before in the dark of her quarters, "It's okay... You're with me, Dimitri... It's all right."

"Forgive me..." The words came hoarsely from a too-tight throat, but for a moment, Dimitri could do nothing but stand where he was in her arms and grip down on her with all that he had. It was too familiar, her warmth chasing away the dreams and memory like he had wished for all those damned years alone, but the comfort was bittersweet. For all his strength he was still little more than a mewling kitten, blind and frightened and weak at the mercy of memory, and it was only at her touch that he could remember and take a breath against the freezing cold touch of his ghosts. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent to further give him grounding, and his fingers pressed into her hip as he whispered raggedly, "I... It was just... too much for a moment... If you'll... give me another minute..."

"Shh... Take as much time as you want..." Raine's answer came softly, soothingly, and her fingers combed gently through his hair as he clutched at her like a lifeline. His broad shoulders were trembling, making her wince for him and the memories that still had such a fierce hold on his fragile psyche. She had forgotten entirely, not thinking in the wake of all the other weights that were piling up, and she tightened her hold as best as she could manage with her ill-working arms as she reassured him quietly, "I won't go anywhere..."

For a heartbeat, Dimitri closed his eye tightly and clung, allowing himself to sink into her warmth and soak in every ounce of comfort she was offering without hesitation. She was warm and soft, a firm reminder of where he stood and when, and he was ashamed to admit how sorely he needed it. She said nothing, merely continued to hold him and give him grounding, and he wondered errantly how much it had to hurt her to do so. She was using both of her arms, however gingerly, and he hated to think of how badly her untreated wounds must be aching as she put it aside for his sake. That thought and that thought alone forced him back cruelly to the present, and with slow, careful hands he reached to pull himself carefully away and out of her grasp.

"We can't keep the others waiting on my account... They must all be there by now." His voice was gruff, a low, forced mutter, but he knew it was for the best even as she watched him with a furrowed brow. She didn't look at all convinced that he was all right, but he made no claims either way as he moved to brush his knuckles carefully against her cheek. She tilted her head automatically, leaning into his touch, and his expression softened as his thumb traced the shape of her jawline, "We should continue on. As for you and I... Later... We can pick this up again... later."

"That better be a promise." Raine murmured reluctantly, but she allowed him to dictate the pace as she knew was best for him. However, she didn't let his arm leave her grasp, and instead curled her own about his as he tried to withdraw fully. She knew it was childish, but she wanted to cling to him a little longer, at least until the circumstances demanded she couldn't. She was grateful when he didn't pull away from her, allowing her to lead, and she mused he had to be putting up as much of a front as she was if he wasn't going to struggle even for appearance's sake.

They walked the rest of the way through the halls of cells like that, arm tightly entwined in arm, and Raine felt his tension escaping him even as he held himself upright and a little bit stiffly. He didn't want to show weakness, at least to those waiting for them at the end of their little journey, and that much she could understand. Even all these moons later, even for all the progress he had made, he was still a badly broken man. He had not healed entirely, and likely never would... but he didn't want that to be seen by everyone else when he was needed was a pillar of support for another. She both loved and hated him for that, for that selfless concern for her and her brother, and it made her all the more reluctant as she spotted the guards at the doors of an open cell not a stone's throw away from the left corner.

The two men, clad in Almyran colours, nodded to them at their approach and stepped away from the doors without a word as they lowered the weapons respectfully to grant them entry. From inside they could hear Claude speaking, interspersed occasionally with comments by Seteth, or Flayn, but Warin was silent and there was no hint that Rhea was there inside. It wasn't until the two ducked in, as quietly and innocuously as they could that they caught of glimpse of the sparse cell, the rusted chains, and the five people who were currently making it their impromptu base.

Warin stood by the entrance, back to the wall and arms crossed in his usual posture, and as far away from the centre of the action as he could possibly place himself. He was the stoic observer, his expression completely placid and betraying nothing, even though his eyes were quietly simmering, deep in his dark irises that were cleverly hidden by the shadow of the open door. Claude stood further inside, but no more than a few paces, as if some invisible wall was keeping him from reaching the other end of the rather small cell. He wished to be closer, his outstretched hand and animated voice spoke of an argument of some sort that had abruptly been cut off at their arrival, but for one reason or another, he stood too far away and was not permitted access to the circle across the cell from him.

And at that end sat the three green-haired ones, separate and apart, yet together and firm with one sitting on the ground, small, frail and tired, another kneeling at her side, kind, caring and maternal despite her youthful look and furrowed brows, while the sole male stood warily over them like a long-haggard guardian who was still waiting for the day he could conclude his eternal vigil. Rhea sat between them, her thin, white gown tattered and matted with grime and dust and blood, and her eyes were sunken and her face pale from the long years of torture she had seen in the dungeons. Though her chains had been cut and removed, their ugly crimson marks remained on her wrists and ankles, and her hands and bare feet were bruised and cut. She looked remarkably frail, so different from that last glimpse of her that Raine remembered, though she knew it was not to be a surprise. For over five years she had been imprisoned and at the mercy of Enbarr and their shadowy benefactors, and it was clear her treatment had not been kind.

There was a rush of movement, followed by a sharp, surprised call before Raine felt herself thrown back against the wall as a warm weight collided into her chest. It had happened too fast for her eyes to catch even though her body reacted automatically, reaching to steady the fragile burden resting in her arms. She seemed so thin, and her body was trembling uncontrollably, though Raine admittedly could not tell if it was from weakness, or something else that was causing it. Gone was that straight, proper, polite woman who radiated a calm sort of strength no matter the circumstances she faced, and in her place was a clutching, desperate child whose broken nails dug fiercely into the cloak of her professor as she whispered in a raw, trembling voice, "You came for me...! I've dreamt... of this... I dreamt of you...! Thank you... Thank you so much...!"

Raine was silent as she felt the drop of tears starting on her neck, and her hands twitched at her sides, uncomfortable and taut as a warm feeling that had nothing to do with comfort or relief swelled deep in her stomach. Rhea clung to her with a weak desperation that could have easily been torn away with little more than a shrug, but despite herself, Raine couldn't find the will to move. All she could do was stand awkwardly, feeling the tears the woman they had saved was shedding so freely on her shoulder and wondering at what they meant, and what her reaction would be. Instinct overrode everything else, and her good arm raised slowly, carefully steadying the shaky woman against her front as she finally spoke in a quiet, thick voice of her own, "I would leave no one to stay in such an accursed place... Your time of imprisonment is over. You're free now... Rhea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> This went on a bit longer than I meant for it to, (and along the way I gave poor Dimitri a panic attack, that was totally unintentional) but I think I like where this ended up. Of course, this is an awkward and disjointed kind of piece, though I'm not totally unhappy with it. There's still a lot of ground to cover, though we're slowly getting there, and the next chapter will be a fun info-dump for everyone who's been waiting so patiently for it! Mind, we all know what's going to happen, but the internal reveal is so much more fun than the external, right?
> 
> I'm pretty tired, and writing has been rough lately. Lots of pain, though thankfully no sickness on my end! I've been so strict with quarantine that the very idea of my city lifting up the limits has gotten me surprised. I'm grateful that my province has handled the problem as well as we have, and I hope that it continues to be treated with the seriousness it deserves. And I hope everyone else out there is also staying safe and healthy, too, regardless of what your country is doing right now. Don't take risks with your health!
> 
> Anyway, I don't have a long AN to write, as I'm just too damned sleepy for it right now. I should be in bed, but unfortunately my muse kicked me out of it to go finish this off. It's a problem. I've been wanting to write for weeks, but my body keeps screaming that it's too sore, too hot, too uncomfortable, too tired... and then my muse throws a tantrum and I end up losing sleep trying to make it up to her. I really ought to fix that. Anywhosit, thank you as always for reading this far, and please drop me a review if you should feel the need. They keep me going, even the smallest thing is a treasure, and I'm grateful to everyone and anyone who takes the time to write up a comment. You guys have a good one!
> 
> Mood: Lazy.
> 
> Listening To: "Wraith" - Snow Ghosts
> 
> ~ Sky


	29. Tale of the Nabateans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Rating: Family, War, Truth, History. (T)
> 
> Characters: Raine, Dimitri, Warin, Seteth, Flayn, Claude, Rhea.
> 
> Summary: It was a long tale, and one not told entirely willingly. The truth however was no longer a matter of secrecy, not when it had come knocking on their front door so brazenly, and had nearly taken the entirety of the continent down in flames. There was shame, guilt, and regret in those seafoam-green eyes of hers as she explained the history that she had guarded so carefully, and the like-coloured eyes that stared coldly back at her made her wince. She would find no redemption in this truth, but the matter she desperately wanted to speak of was not for the ears gathered there. Not yet.

**Verdant Rain Moon**

**Enbarr Castle Dungeons**

**Night**

Stern, firm hands grasped her shoulders, pulling her away from the warm, comforting figure she had thrown herself at thoughtlessly on sight and sight alone, and for a moment, Rhea thought to struggle before she saw Seteth's face watching her quietly. His brow was furrowed in a familiar frown, but there was a deeper disturbance in his eyes as they flickered from her confused expression and then back to the professor. He kept her firmly at heel, needing little more than a light grip to ensure she was pulled well back and away, and a lingering glimpse over her shoulder proved that perhaps he was far more capable of reading the situation than she was, and it would be wiser to follow his lead in this matter.

Raine's expression was tense and uncomfortable, her seafoam-coloured eyes almost incapable of being read for all the speeding emotions that were flickering through as she moved automatically closer to huddle herself next to the hulking man who had escorted her to the dungeons. It was as if she was seeking his protection, and he moved immediately with her, shifting himself to settle a shoulder in front of her like a shield without a single word spoken between them. A glimpse of that golden-coloured hair was a faint reminder as Seteth pulled her back towards Flayn and the spread-out cloak that she had been sitting upon, and a small part of her heart ached with the realization that this was how the prince of Faerghus had grown in the near six years since she had been imprisoned.

It was so strange, watching those she had left behind coming to her rescue, though she would not lie and say that her dreams had so often featured such a scenario. Yet, never had her hero been escorted, and always had she been received with warmth and relief. The reality was far more cold, far more stern, and her battered and bruised body tensed with annoyance. Was it so much to ask, after the pain and the torture and the loneliness, for her to indulge herself in her happy dreams now that the shackles had been sundered? It seemed it was as Seteth guided her to the ground, his hands commanding and unyielding, and though she sat, she could not help but look up at him silently in question.

He gave her no answer, merely shaking his head as his daughter reached for her wrist without a word of permission. Flayn's hand was gentle and warm as it glowed with that familiar pulse of magic, once more beginning to soothe the red and raw skin the manacles had burnt in their vice-like grip, but Rhea was well aware that like her father, she, too, was bothered by this scenario. Her expression was likewise pulled into a frown, her eyes downcast and firmly focussed on her work, and confused, Rhea raised her own head as she glimpsed at her surroundings and took in the expressions of all of the others who had arrived at the dungeons.

Claude's expression was a familiar one, even if it was on a more grown face than she remembered. There was hunger in his eyes, a deep-seeded and lustful want for knowledge that he was not permitted to have, and a willingness to cross any and all boundaries in order to get to it. He had grown physically, but deep down he was still that pesky troublemaker, and he didn't look one whit apologetic or even caring about how he had to appear in the moment. He had come for one reason and one reason only, to sate his lust for the truth, and he did not care who knew, or what they thought of him for it.

In comparison, Dimitri's growth was clear and almost astonishing to look at, and Rhea had to examine him closely with both surprise and a small pang somewhere deep in her chest. He looked older, but there was also a haggard sort of edge to him that cut down his size and made him look just as worn as his clothing. The eyepatch he wore too was old, a sign of a long-pained wound, and the way he held himself also spoke of innumerable scars and pain from too many battles in too short a time period. He had become a behemoth of a man, tall, imposing, and rugged, but there was a clear and battered edge to him, too, that could not be hidden by his sheer size and strength.

Where Dimitri had weathered, Warin instead had grown hard, and Rhea had to admit to herself that she was not sure she would have believed such a thing to be possible. He stood cold and imposing, a long, jagged scar peeking out over his collar and disappearing under his hair as his arms folded across his chest in testament to the last iota of patience he seemingly was clinging onto. His eyes were icy, colder than the giant wastelands in the far north, and his expression was painfully neutral despite the way his gaze bit into her like a pair of fangs. He was watching, ever the silent predator, and yet now more than ever did she feel danger and fright at the sight of him. He had always been a mercenary born, but whatever had happened in the last five years had turned him from a soldier for hire to an expert killer.

It was Raine and only Raine who seemed unchanged against the trio of men she stood amongst, though there was some age in her seafoam-coloured gaze that had not been there before. She knew already it was not those five years, Seteth and Flayn had told her already that she had "disappeared" in the chaos of the fighting, only to return at the last possible moment to rally the rebellion. What had truly happened to her no one seemed to know, other than she apparently had "slept", and whatever she had experienced, she had not shared with either of the two she knew best. Now, the professor seemed guarded and wary, unnerved and relying on Dimitri's silent support that he seemed to offer without hesitation or worry.

The eyes on her felt piercing, restraining, moreso than the shackles that had chained her down and the steel that had pierced her flesh for the blood that the Imperial mages had so hungrily sought from her. It made her tense, and she unconsciously leaned back to feel Seteth calmly standing at her back and watching over her protectively. Flayn's hands were gentle on her wounds, her magic even moreso as it reached out to soothe her aches and pains like an old, old friend. Yet even their steady, familiar presences felt tense, and their expressions were troubled by something that put her all the further on edge under so much intense scrutiny. She began slowly, hesitantly, simultaneously hating herself for the show of weakness and yet altogether too drained and disturbed to do anything else, "You all... have come here to rescue me...? Is the war... truly over, then? Have you managed... to defeat the Emperor?"

"Edelgard is dead, but the war is far from over. We've more enemies that must be taken care of before we can claim a victory." Claude spoke up first as the questions hung quiet and hesitant in the air, and he crossed his arms as he looked abut the room to see the varying expressions that all spoke of hesitation or disinterest in providing an answer. It irked him, having finally come all this way only to see the rest of them stumble, and he knew his temper showed as he turned on Rhea instead alone, heat entering his voice and turning it sharp and piercing, "Enemies we believe that you know of, to be perfectly frank, Archbishop. While it's true for some here that your rescue was the end-game of this confrontation, that wasn't why all of us gathered. You've so many answers to our many, many questions... and you aren't going to get away with half-truths, or twisted lies anymore."

"More... enemies? I don't under-"

"You've been here for over six years, have you not? Don't lie!" Claude's voice rose to an abrupt shout, and almost everyone in the room cringed automatically from him at the sudden display of anger as he threw out an arm in a sweeping dismissive gesture of her stammering reply. His eyes were blazing as he took an automatic step forward, and he wasn't at all surprised to see Flayn move just a little to insert herself between him and Rhea without an ounce of hesitation or fear. Her expression was serious and fearless, firm and defensive, and her father was quick to mirror her actions to create a shield between the two of them. He shook his head, annoyed but unsurprised by their act of defiance and protection, and he continued in that same sharp tone, "Don't tell me that you've been hidden away from those pale-faced bastards that propped up the Empire and made puppets of us all for this entire war! They were here, with Edelgard, when we took this castle for our own! You must have seen them at least once! You must know what they've been doing with you, with your blood, just as they did with Flayn's back in our school days!"

"She didn't know, Claude. And you would have known that had you allowed us to finish explaining before you started your questioning." Flayn's voice came quiet but defiant from the floor where she was still sitting, with Rhea's shivering hands tightly gripped in her own, and her eyes flashed with annoyance as Claude looked down at her with no small mixture of contempt and irritation. She returned his glare flatly, unafraid of him and unimpressed by the attempt at intimidation, and she continued in that same calm, but obviously annoyed tone of her own, "Edelgard only permitted her own trusted Imperial mages to interact with Lady Rhea. She created a buffer, to ensure that Thales would never be able to directly see or interact with her. Her blood was taken for the experiments with the Demonic Beasts, and likely for whatever it was that happened to Edelgard herself, but Lady Rhea was never aware of what was happening outside of this cell. To say otherwise is foolish. Who would inform a prisoner of why they are being tortured, unless they wish to break her down further? Edelgard cared only for the means to the end to her power. Lady Rhea's mental state was never of interest to her."

"Fine. So she never had direct interaction with them, but there must be a reason why Edelgard made it that way. What do you know of them, Lady Rhea? These enemies of ours that Hubert called those who slither in the dark?" Claude brushed away the explanation with a flick of his wrist, and he sidestepped about Flayn's shielding so he could directly cast his gaze fiercely on the woman who was still sitting quiet, vulnerable, and startled on the floor next to her. Her battered and weary state meant little to him, not when he was so painfully close, and he waved a hand about the cell when he continued on, "Enemies of not just the Church of Seiros, but the entirety of Fódlan... Enemies who have been trying, and almost succeeded, in wiping what they called "vermin" off of the map of this continent. Their grudge with humanity, with these so-called "children of the Goddess" seems to span generations, and their power is immense. They destroyed Fort Merceus with the use of the javelins of light of legend, that caused the Valley of Ailell... Hubert didn't name them directly, but he didn't need to. The power they gave the Empire in their war nearly doomed the whole of the continent. What kind of enemy did the Church make all those years ago?"

Rhea shook her head, feeling her temples throbbing as Claude's loud voice pierced through her ears and made her body tremble with remembrance. Those "scientists" that had come to her cell, always with new enchanted chains and knives and vials had spoken to her in similar tones, and always that searing pain had taken away everything else when they had finished with her. They took too much delight in their tasks, in her pain, and she winced away from the familiarity as she felt Seteth's strong hand gripping down firmly on her shoulder in a show of silent support. His words were difficult to understand, even though a faint part of her was waking with realization, but it was difficult to balance the two halves of herself that were at war with the sudden feeling of freedom, and the cell that had been her home for so many years.

It was Seteth, and not Rhea who answered Claude, bringing all eyes to him in alarm and surprise as he took a firm step and put Rhea at his back. His face was grave, yet still composed, and his dark emerald eyes glinted coolly as he stood in front of both his daughter and the archbishop when he spoke calmly, "The enemy you speak of was not made due to the Church's actions, Claude. Rather, the feud you reference was born before the Church's very creation. Those who slither in the dark... They are a very real enemy, whose existence was once thought to have been totally stomped out, but at the time of the full-fledged war when they fought openly, and not from the shadows, they had a name that we recognized, and had subsequently erased from history when their defeat was called. I did not know of this myself until today, when I fought them personally, but I know now who they are, what they wish for, and why they have done what they have done. The Agarthans have ever been the enemy of the children of the Goddess, and it was a mistake, all those many years ago, to have thought them wiped out."

"Seteth!" Rhea felt new energy surging through her body, a raw sort of primal fear she had not known even in her six years of imprisonment, and she struggled to stand only to find her limbs would not permit it. She turned her head, shaking it fiercely as her loyal companion looked down at her with a mixture of sadness and guilt painted across his face. Yet there was also something akin to relief, as if he was letting a long-infected wound finally drain rather than permitting it to boil, and the very idea made her skin cold. This was not permitted, and her teeth ground together as she struggled to find some hidden reserved of energy to allow her to stand, to silence him, "You cannot-"

"Rhea. The time for secrecy... is over. We cannot keep up this charade... and we have no right to do so in front of the professor, and everyone else here." Flayn's hands tightened on Rhea's, keeping her anchored with what little strength she had, and she was both surprised and hurt to realize it did not take very much to subdue the much older woman. Rhea was weak even if she was frightened, and her body simply was too exhausted to flee, as it clearly wished to do. It made her chest throb as Rhea's panicked eyes turned from her father and to her, and she squeezed those trembling fingers in her grasp comfortingly as she urged her softly, "Father speaks truly. Of who our enemies are, and what they wished for. We saw it for ourselves, and we cannot deny the truth any longer. To do so would put more innocent lives at risk. They are not worth our secrets. Too many have paid too high a price for it already... and the professor deserves the truth. We cannot hide who we are any longer. We must trust in those who came this far to save Fódlan, and you. They will finish what they started. You must believe in them, as we do. The truth will only hurt us, and them, should we continue to hide it."

"Then speak. No one here is about to stop you." Warin interrupted before either Rhea or Claude could do so, and his voice was a powerful whip that drew all eyes to him. He had not moved from where he was, leaning against the wall in a casual, calm pose, but his expression belied the look of comfort. His face was drawn and sharp, his eyes glinting with life and barely leashed wrath, and the arms that had been crossed over his chest were bulging in a testament to the way his fists had to be curled tightly under his armpits. His eyes however were for Flayn, as odd as it seemed when he looked so angry, but his voice remained clear, not projecting that wrath in any given direction as she met his stare without hesitation or fear, "Take as much time as you wish to sort it out amongst yourselves... but tell us the truth. What war did we get dragged into against our wills, and better knowledge? What foes are we fighting, that are capable of destroying an entire fort without ever making themselves known? And who are _you,_ knowing all of this, but deciding to keep it from those who put their necks on the line, as if our deaths, our victories, won't mean anything to you at the end of all this?"

Seteth looked to Rhea for a long moment as he felt the weight of the burden on his shoulders, and the fear and panic on her face cut him deep to the bone. It was primal, and despite his decision, he winced with guilt for putting it there. Her fear was justified, and he would never say otherwise, but so many other factors had come into play that he could no longer account for her emotions. If even Flayn had persisted, had pled for the truth, it meant that the time to shine the light was now, and it was his duty to do what Rhea clearly would not. He took in a deep, steadying breath before he turned his eyes to those who were assembled in the small, dank cell, and he spoke with quiet, firm clarity as he felt their gazes piercing him through, "As I said before, the foes we face are that of the Agarthans... Enemies of the children of the Goddess... The Nabateans. Those who once dwelt in Zanado, in the days when the Goddess herself walked amongst humanity. They were bitter foes who spurned her gifts, and were suspicious and bloodthirsty. War was their calling, and they waged it furiously... Do you all recall the name Nemesis?"

"The King of Liberation. The original wielder of the Sword of the Creator." Dimitri spoke first, his eyes flickering to the sword at Raine's hip before he glanced back up to Seteth with a furrowed brow. Raine's hand lunged almost immediately for the hilt of her blade at the mention of its former owner, and he winced with the realization that even now, she could not bear the idea of having the sword not rest in her hand. It didn't matter how much battle she had seen, how much more was to dawn on the horizon, as she had made that Relic into an extension of her being, and it was now as much a part of her as her own arm. Still, he was confused as he looked to Seteth and Rhea, and his words came slowly as he wondered, "Why does he matter to this story? The Goddess gifted him his blade, did she not?"

"That... is the story as it is now told, but the truth is not so... Nemesis was no liberator... nor did he receive the Sword of the Creator as a gift. It was... stolen from the Goddess, and now I believe that he used the power of the Agarthans to do so." Rhea now spoke, startling the others, but she was not looking up from where she was sitting. Her hands were crossed in her lap, tightly gripping one another to stop them from trembling even as Flayn laid her own over them. Her eyes were cloudy, distant, and her lips thinned as she felt Seteth's hand once more coming to rest comfortingly on her shoulder at her show of speech. It was difficult, trying to put thought to words, but she tried all the same as she watched out of the corner of her eye as Raine's hand gripped down all the tighter on the hilt of her blade, "If all that you are saying is true... That the Agarthans have risen once more... Then Nemesis' benefactors are now laid bare to us... The Agarthans have long sworn death to the Nabateans. To use Nemesis, and the Ten Elites to do so, and now once again using the Empire as a prop in a similar attempt... How could it not be their hand again at play...? How did this happen yet again, without our knowledge...?"

"Wait a moment, the Ten Elites as well?"

"Of course. Nemesis didn't act alone. If you wish to craft a fine lie that will stand the test of time, there must be seeds of truth within it." Warin's comment at Claude's surprise drew a searching glance from Seteth, Flayn and Rhea, and he looked at them with a cocked eyebrow and a mixture of amusement and curiosity. How was it that they seemed so shocked each time one of their stories were unravelled? It wasn't as if they were playing a game that long preceded their very existence, after all. He shrugged his shoulders, not moving from the wall as he kept his eyes firmly focussed on Rhea as he studied her reaction closely, "Am I right? Nemesis waged war on the Nabateans, at the behest of the Agarthans... alongside the Ten Elites of old. The so-called great war against the evil gods was really the war between the Agarthans and the Nabateans, and those all in between. Do I have the story right so far?"

"The... gist of it..." Rhea murmured rather begrudgingly, and she felt her back stiffen as Warin's eyes narrowed down on her like a predator awaiting the proper moment to pounce. He seemed so sure of himself, of everything he said, and it irked her beyond belief to hear such arrogance coming from his mouth. It was so galling, to see him standing before her mockingly, threateningly, with those same beautiful colours she had once envied and loved, and now could only recoil from in bitter memory. She avoided his glance, unable to bear that cold, deadly weight as she forced herself to continue as Flayn's hand squeezed her fingers comfortingly, "You spoke... of power beyond your comprehension... Power enough to destroy the entirety of a fortress... This is power the Agarthans have had, and have used before, once in the distant past. If nothing else, this is enough proof that the foe you seek now is indeed the foe of old... But, as Seteth said... It was believed after the war that the Agarthans were defeated... and to ensure that no one else would follow in their footsteps... It was decided that history should be rewritten. The tragedy of Zanado... The needless deaths of so many innocents... The sheer destruction of the war... It could not be permitted to happen again."

"And thus you condemned us all to a repetition in a vain attempt to steer clear of it. Idiocy." Warin continued in that same cold, blunt tone, but he took no satisfaction as he watched the trio in front of him wince as if his words were iron barbs. Rhea in particular was still avoiding his gaze, and she was grinding her teeth as if in annoyance, but she either did not have the courage, or the energy, to challenge him. He pressed further, understanding now was the only chance he would have, and he seized on the opening with cruel efficiency, "Yet, some part of me can understand how you'd be so damned arrogant to have such a belief... I've noticed you haven't answered my question about _who_ you all are, and yet you speak of these ancient times as if they were only yesterday to you. As if you lived them. The Nabateans aren't all dead, are they? There's some in this very room, isn't there? Your arrogance dragged everyone here into a war that had nothing to do with any of us, and the blame for it can be laid solely at your feet. And _still_ you try to avoid ownership by speaking half-truths, and mincing your words. I said I wanted the truth, not your version of the past. Don't test me with this asinine, half-arsed charade of yours. Out with it. _Who are you?_ "

"We are the Nabateans. Or, at least, we are all that remains of them." Flayn now spoke, startling both Rhea and Seteth, and she stood before Rhea's hands could become grasping, and her father could pull at her to stop her from continuing. She stepped away from them both, turning her backs to those who stood away and against them and now turning her gaze fully to those she called kin, and loved from the depths of her heart. Her promise held her tightly in iron chains, but she found comfort in them, comfort and relief from the freeing of the other shackles, and she could feel Warin's stare on her shoulders as she looked both of the startled older two in the eyes and confronted them quietly, "Father... Rhea... I will not keep this secret from them any longer. I have promised... that when the time came... I would give all I had to give to them, for the trust they have put in me. I cannot give them what they truly seek, and even now, they are not pushing for it... So, in turn, I will give them what I can. You must understand I do not do this as a betrayal... but as penance. We have lived with our secrets for so long, we have forgotten why we chose to hide in the first place. Our duty is the _protection_ of humanity... Not to be their leaders. We are the last of the children of the Progenitor God... We must fulfil our duties... while minding the hearts and lives of those who have come to our aid, time and time again, when they had no reason to do so. You understand, do you not? You agree with me, don't you?"

"F-Flayn..." Seteth began in alarm as he heard all of those precious secrets slipping freely from her lips like rainfall. It stunned him, and made him frozen as she met his stare evenly and with utter conviction. She had never feared for herself the way he had, she had never been hunted like they all had, and she had always, always yearned for a freedom he knew she could never truly grasp. He had known all of this, and yet to see her now, standing before him and letting the truth go for the humans at her back made his spine turn to jelly, and all of his instincts demanded flight. She didn't know of what she was doing, how much she was risking, and it sharpened his voice as he scolded her, "Do not speak so lightly of these things! It is not a matter of agreement, or understanding! Once already they sought and captured you, and now you would openly tell all?! Did you learn nothing?!"

"I learned that your mistrust of humanity was mistaken, Father." Flayn's answer came calmly, and her eyes flickered unhappily as she stood her ground against his wrath that she knew was grounded in worry... but her promise compelled her, and she did not shy away now. It was far too late for that, and she felt the warm support of her professor and her brother at her side, even though they had not once moved, and that was all that she needed to have her confidence bolstered. Her voice was steady, even, as she stared both her father and Rhea down without fear or worry she was wrong, "At every turn, I have learned that when needed most, I can rely on those who took me in without question and with the uttermost kindness. That my secrets were of no matter to them, because they trusted me, and they cared little for what I hid from them for my own safety. When needed most... They would put their faith in me. Now, it is my turn to repay their faith. I am an ally first and foremost to the professor... and now that she needs me... I shall stand at her side, as I should have done from the very beginning."

The shocked silence that followed her proclamation was oppressive like the weight of a coming storm, and Raine felt her throat tighten as she looked at the stricken faces of Seteth and Rhea as Flayn stood protectively before her. She could feel Warin's quiet satisfaction at her side, proving that this was nothing of a surprise to him, but to her she felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. The secrets were of little matter to her, especially when she had already harboured her suspicions, but to see Flayn turn her back so pointedly on those she called on kin, for her own sake, to boot... She shook her head slowly, her voice tight as she began weakly, "Flayn, this really isn't necessary..."

"Forgive me, Professor... but it truly is." Flayn glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with the woman who had taken her in with a small, gentle smile, and had treated her with absolutely no favours ever since the day she had joined her class. She had given her a taste of sorely-needed normalcy, of a life without trappings, favouritism and paranoia, and she wished for nothing more than the chance to return to such sweet days. To know she had played her part in robbing her professor of that balance, of choice, would always be her biggest regret, even if she had not known the truth of it all at the time. "I do this not only for your sake, but also for my own. To clear my guilty conscience... and make things right. I was never your best student, but you treated me fairly... and I did not show you the loyalty you deserved, when push came to shove... Today is when I show my mettle. When I stand my ground. You were treated wrongly. I will have no more part of it, and I will stand at your side and fight with you to the last to give you what you seek. No matter what it costs me."

"That is truly your wish, then...? You've grown even more stubborn, haven't you?" Seteth shook his head slowly in defeat as his daughter's words whipped at his heart, flaying his defences and leaving him completely bare to her ire. It was strange, how proud and saddened he felt at the sight of her growth and her defiance, but he supposed that was simply his due coming far, far later than it should have. She was a little girl no longer, no matter how her growth was delayed due to the blood that flowed in her veins, and that sharp, commanding light in her eyes was far too much like his late wife's for his heart's liking. He bowed his head, knowing the battle was lost, and he sighed heavily as he agreed quietly, "As you wish it, then, Flayn... The secrecy ends here... They may have all the answers they wish for."

"Is that truly your choice, then...? You'd put your trust in humanity again, after everything that was taken from us all those years ago?"

The question came so weakly from the woman still kneeling between them, and Seteth winced at the sheer exhaustion that was dripping from her voice as she glanced from face to face almost beseechingly. He understood her fear, he understood her reluctance, but... his daughter had pointed out their flaws, and sheer pragmatism told him that even if he was to struggle and hide, he was too far outnumbered to fight it now. They were cornered, but those who held them at their mercy were not the monsters of old they had been taught to fear and hide from. He knelt down slowly, again placing a calming, placating hand on Rhea's thin shoulder as he reassured her quietly, "These are not the humans of the past, Rhea. We cannot hold onto our grudges... and our fears. They have come this far, ignorant and being pushed and pulled from all angles... They deserve the truth, for that much, if nothing else. It does not need to be all at once, but their questions of their enemies are fair. Even you must see the wisdom in that, at the very least."

"Then ask what it is you wish... I cannot go against the will of my kin. And I've no strength left to me to fight any longer." Rhea's reply came tiredly, grudgingly, and she stared with quiet defeat at her hands as she felt both Seteth and Flayn crowding next to her to offer her comfort despite their blatant betrayal. Whatever had occurred in the past six years had changed them, and though she wondered sorely what it was they had lived through, she honestly was not sure if she was ready to know. Flayn's declaration of utter loyalty to her professor had shaken her to her core, and it took all of what little willpower she had left not to lift her eyes to look to the woman in question. Still she could feel her warmth in her arms, feel her reassuring strength and hear her quiet promise that she would have freed anyone from such cruelty... but it was trite kindness. The woman she had left behind with her power was not the one who stood before her now, and despite herself... She was frightened of her, and of the men and women she had rallied behind _her_ banner, and _her_ power, separate of the Church, of herself, and of the Goddess. "Ask what you will... and I shall answer to the best of my ability."

"The most pressing questions have already been answered for the moment... The details we can go over at a better time and place. Knowing your connection to these... Agarthans explains much of the mysteries we've been trying to unravel on our own these past few years... But don't allow that to lead you to believe you are off the hook yet, Archbishop." Claude spoke, head tilting to the side as he scowled down at the trio sitting down in the end of the cell. He had so much more he wanted to know, wanted to pry from their reluctant grasps, but even he was aware that he had reached a hard limit. Rhea's complexion was sickly, and the tension within the cell was so thick it could easily be cut through with a dagger. Already he could sense there had been several moments where a wrong word had almost been spoken, where violence had nearly broken out, and his appetite for fighting was long gone... For the moment. "You've much to answer for, and you will, in due time."

"Despite it all, you have not changed all that much, have you, Claude?" Rhea mused with a half-hearted sort of shake of her head, but her smile was bitter and her eyes sharp. Under her exhaustion and pain there was cold appraisal, and it cut through his carefree and commanding demeanour with little effort. Still, after all these years and all his growth, he was still that meddlesome boy, sneaking where he did not belong in search of truths he did not deserve to know. He had come this far with the rebellion, but she knew he had not done so out of anything remotely like charity. It was not in him to be so kind or empathetic. He was selfish, he was greedy, and the kinship he shared with her former captor did not make him any more endearing to her, even if he was part of the vanguard who had cut her chains. "You've grown into a fine young man, but still you cannot hide your greed... Yet, you look unhappy with your victory. It's not enough, is it, to have partial claim of the overthrowing of the Empire. There's still more you need... or is it that there is still more you _want_?"

Claude bristled, but any ideas he had of challenging her remarks died as he heard Warin's quiet snort of mirth from behind him. He was aware he was outnumbered, and he had no plans on pushing his luck farther than this. The tension was still too thick, and the mocking amusement from the elder Eisner was more than enough to warn him not to overstep the boundary that had been drawn. There was no love lost between the siblings and Rhea, but that did not mean he had any favour with them, either. He swallowed his ire, quietly placing it into a box that he would open in due time, and instead he announced his leave with cold precision, "I'll have what I want, and what I need, when the time comes for it, Lady Rhea. I did not come this far to leave empty-handed, no matter what it is anyone else thinks. We'll speak again together, you and I, and when that time comes, I'll leave satisfied, and for good. I've been patient thus far. A little while longer is little to me."

Raine watched him turn on his heel, leaving with the coldly announced words hanging like a heavy threat in the already thick air, but she was not overly bothered by it. She could tell, however, that Rhea was, and almost felt sympathy for her. It could not be easy, having her freedom only to have her rescuers turn on her in the same breath, and the weight of it all looked to be frighteningly exhausting. Still, her own long-held wrath was still burning away under her skin and did not allow for much kindness, even as she remarked mostly to herself with a mutter, "Getting him out of our hair will not be as easy as it looks... I'm almost regretting our little promise. I don't think Failnaught was worth this... He's no longer leading the Alliance, so what good will he do with this information once he leaves?"

"That's of little consequence to us. Let the politicians deal with it when he returns to his homeland. Regardless of what we know, it won't change how the masses see things in the long run. The Archbishop is soon to return to the church, and the monastery... Our victory over the Emperor secured her safety. What we learned here in this cell doesn't need to leave it." Warin answered with a careless shrug, but his eyes did not entirely match his body language. They instead were on the door, having followed every step Claude had taken in his exit, as well as the guards he had posted at the cell that had eagerly left alongside him. He continued slowly as he leaned again into the wall, crossing his arms over his stomach, "The Church of Seiros will need to take part in the reconstruction to come, and regardless of Claude's will, he alone can't erode the trust in the institution. Not when so many will attribute the victory we won today to the Knights who housed the beginning of the rebellion."

Seteth tilted his head, watching as Rhea looked to Warin with sharp, untrusting eyes and musing that despite things, the young mercenary was far more knowledgable of the way of politics than he seemed. He read the lines of power, both hard and soft like the lines of a map, and it was both astonishing and somewhat fearsome to see. He had understood, long before anyone else had, that the Empire's victory over Garreg Mach was a foregone conclusion, and he had prepared himself accordingly. But still he had remained to fight, knowing it to be a useless endeavour, because it was simply his way. Still, his words made him take pause, and he questioned despite himself, "Reconstruction efforts, you say... Then, your will in Derdriu remains the same? You do intend to return the Empire to its former glory, despite it all?"

"Edelgard was a symptom of a disease that plagued this continent. A disease that, she, herself, did not realize she had become a part of. To condemn the Empire for her misdeeds as a whole is not the way that this disease will be cured. Fódlan has long been a continent of _three_ parts... It ought to remain as such, despite any beliefs to the contrary. At least for now." Dimitri answered Seteth's question, and his gaze flickered to Raine as he saw her stiffen in annoyance at it. Rhea was watching them all silently, taking in the information she was being given with narrowed eyes, but knowing better than to comment just yet. Despite her weakness, her fragility, there was still something deep in her eyes that made Dimitri take pause. She was not the prey that she looked... and in her posture, in her gaze, Dimitri could indeed see a predator equal to that of a dragon taking the measure of those about her in quiet hunger and wrath. "And as I said before... I have no desire to be a king of a world united by force. I wish to restore Fódlan, not rule it... My rule begins and ends in Faerghus, as it should be. The same should be for the Empire, and the Alliance."

"And who will you entrust those lands to?"

"To their proper leaders. The roundtable has already elected Lorenz to secede Claude, and he will do a fine job of it... As for the Empire, there are strong candidates to consider, but I believe Ferdinand would be the wisest choice to take over. His house was second to Edelgard's as it was, and with there being no heirs, the control should fall to him." Dimitri answered the cutting question from Rhea with a measured tone he did not truly feel, but he felt no concern over her judgement. Her will, the will of the Church of Seiros, was of no consequence to him. The coronation was still far off, he had yet to take his seat upon the throne, but he was a king all the same. He knew the deadly dance of politics, and he played his role well as he continued in that same even voice, "The Empire should not be punished for the crimes of a few... Indeed, the Empire has already suffered enough at the hands of those who were meant to lead in earnest. To punish them still further, by stripping them of their sovereignty... No, it will not be permitted. Fódlan is not yet ready for a so-called unification."

"You, too, have grown, haven't you...?" Rhea shook her head slowly, watching Dimitri's calm expression and his one clear cerulean eye with a mixture of bemusement and some grudging sense of pride. He was a behemoth of a man, and she had heard of his leading the charge with his heavy Relic in hand, side by side with his professor. Six years ago it would have been something she would have expected of him, but now he had grown a ragged and pained edge, and she still could still recall that gleam of madness and wrath in his youthful face when he had challenged the freshly unmasked Flame Emperor. He had sworn that day to take her head and hang it from the gates of Enbarr itself, and yet now he spoke of mercy, of a gentle hand, and she admitted with a rueful curl of her lips, "Grown, and deeply changed... I did not expect to hear such words from your lips."

"We all have grown and changed these last six years. Some more than others, but change has come to us whether or not we wanted it to." Raine's voice cut through the sudden uncomfortable silence that fell between them all, and her eyes flashed warningly when Rhea turned to look at her with no small amount of surprise. Meeting that gaze, seafoam-green and so much like her own, Raine had to fight the urge to clench her fists at her side as an ugly wave of heat twisted its way deep into her innards. The flickering in those irises, the way she could not hold her stare for longer than a moment did not do the former mercenary any favours, and as she felt her temper rising, her tongue moved before her mind could leash it, "For the moment, I'll stay satisfied with the answers you've given, though I'll be honest and say I don't want you out of my sight until you tell me everything I want to know. I know what you've said to be the truth, though not the truth entirely. You spoke to me of the Nabateans once. You know much more than you're letting on, even now."

Seteth looked sharply to Rhea, surprised and yet somehow not to hear such words, but Rhea did not meet his searching glance. Instead she was staring at the ground, unable to meet Raine's sharp and accusatory glare. The weight she was projecting was heavy, and Rhea clearly felt the burden like a physical blow. It did not help that at her sides, her brother and Dimitri had taken up their natural positions, giving her their support in silence and with feral purpose, and the thought almost was enough to make him chuckle. She did not need their support, neither physically nor emotionally, and yet how quickly the two men were to leap to her side... He wondered what they would do, if they were to know who the woman they flanked was, and the power she possessed, but he supposed it did not truly matter. Instead, he shook his head, taking in a breath as he mused, "If Rhea has already spoken to you of the Nabateans, than I imagine that you have put together much from Flayn's... revelations, yes?"

"I noticed that Flayn didn't call herself, or you, either, as descendants of the Nabateans. Rather, she called you _the_ Nabateans... and from the little Rhea spoke of, there were none left. If that's the case, you're either a very well-hidden linage spanning centuries of secrecy equal to that of the Agarthans, or... Flayn spoke both truthfully, and literally, and you are the last of those who were massacred in the Tragedy of Zanado." Raine answered with narrowed eyes, and her gaze flickered from face to face, taking in the quiet exhaustion, the brittle defiance, and the soft shame in those exceptionally kind eyes of the youngest of the trio. It made her sick to her stomach, thinking deeper, forcing aside her own confusion and wonder and self-disgust, but she had to bury it all as she forced her voice to be firm and cold, "I'm inclined to believe my student... and your own actions are evidence enough against you. But... At the moment, I'm not interested in the finer details. You've the Archbishop to attend to... and I've my men to look after, and another war to prepare for."

"Another war? What do you mean?"

"I don't intend to stand by and allow the Agarthans to escape me again. Thales' body was not recovered, and we've a lead on where their base of operations may be. On the next moon, I'll take what forces I can amass, and we'll bury them in the dark. Permanently, this time." Raine's answer was flat and cold, as sharp as a steel blade that knew no mercy when it plunged through flesh and bone to find its precious target deep within. She turned on her heel, facing the door as that ugly bubbling feeling in her stomach threatened to overwhelm her and rise up in her throat. She could taste bile on her tongue, and wasn't sure if it was her sudden nausea, or her rage manifesting itself as she continued, "I was dragged kicking and screaming into this mess, and I've fought like a good, little obedient soldier so far... As a mercenary, I'll see it through to the end. And when _that_ ends... You, Warin, and I shall settle things, Rhea, once and for all."

If there was a reply given, Raine did not hear it as her feet automatically began carrying her out of the cell. It had become small and stifling, and she was having trouble catching her breath as if the very air was stagnant. At first it was a walk, careful, cautious, but as she found the stairs, she realized dully she had broken into a sprint without thinking. The walls were closing in tightly, squeezing like those spindly, crimson-coated claws about her chest, and her lungs craved the open air, and her clammy skin was desperate for sunlight. She hadn't realized she hated the underground, but now all she could think of was her utter loathing of being sealed away from the sky.

Fast footsteps echoed in her ears as she dodged about corners, panting as the weight of her deadened arm unbalanced her usual gait and made her curse for the added slowness. Even the sprawling openness of the castle wasn't enough. It was still a steel-jawed trap, waiting to close on her and crush her, and she didn't trust a single brick or pillar within the damned place to hold up. Even if she was far from the throne room, far from where she had made her last stand, the memories of the battle pulled at her gut, ached in her arm, and she could still see that dark, vengeful glint in the long-dead pair of eyes as that silver dagger came speeding for her throat...

Fresh air assaulted her lungs as she broke free through the doors, but the scent of it was acrid with smoke and did her bubbling stomach no favours. She felt it flip uncomfortably, and she rounded the nearest corner, her one useful hand clutching at her midsection as her feet began to stumble. She made it three steps before she found a row of trees, somehow miraculously untouched by the soldiers who had stormed the castle, and she disappeared behind them as she tasted bile on her tongue. The lurch became a heave, and everything spun as the contents of her stomach came rushing up her throat as her knees gave way.

An ugly mixture of panic, disgust, anger and grief ripped through her with every heave, and she heard more than she felt herself vomiting the meagre lunch she had forced down after the battle. It burnt and her eyes stung, but the physical sensations felt distant and dull against the swirling of her head. Flashes of faces, some dead, some alive, were rippling before her eyes like lightning in a far-off cloudy sky and each one burnt into the backs of her eyelids. It was too much. She had spent everything she had to give, both physically and mentally, and she had nothing left. She wasn't ready for more, no matter how much she had tried to convince herself otherwise... Not yet.

Another heave of her stomach left her reeling, and she groped blindly at the ground in an attempt to steady herself from collapsing face-down into the grass. Her limbs felt so damned weak, injuries or no, and she could feel the trembling coming from somewhere deep within becoming worse with every passing moment. Her fingers curled into the grass, grasping and tearing, and she coughed as that bitter, sour taste of bile lingered on her tongue and left her eyes watering. Her hair dangled on her cheeks, damp and clammy against her already cold skin, and another full body shudder rippled through her and brought goosebumps erupting across her flesh.

A soft, careful hand gathered her hair, making her twitch in surprise, but she had no more strength to react any more violently to the sudden intrusion. The sharp and clear scent of the woods and pine resin filled her nose as a strong arm wrapped itself supportingly about her middle, and she shuddered despite herself even as she was pulled carefully up from her slump. A slightly accented voice spoke calmly in her ear as the comforting hand about her shoulders squeezed down, "Easy there... Any reason you're hiding behind the grove, rather than looking for a healer? And don't say pride, or I'll carry you there myself, argument or no. And it doesn't look like you could fight me off right now, either."

"Shamir." Raine answered with a weak, shaky sigh, and she coughed twice, tasting copper on her tongue before she turned her head somewhat to see the sniper crouching down next to her on her left. Her expression was neutral as always, but her wine-coloured eyes were surprisingly soft. It was somewhat akin to the look she would give to Warin, when she assumed no one was there to see it, and to have it directed at her was something of a surprise. Though, she mused tiredly, that it was better to be found by her than any of her students, and the thought made her let out another long breath as she asked, "Were you waiting for Warin...?"

"Partly. He'd warned me of the little... conversation that was going to take place down in the cells. I'm glad I waited around... Had any of your students seen you, they would have stormed the dungeons themselves, all warnings to stay put be damned." Shamir answered placidly, by the supportive grip about her shoulders didn't lessen even as Raine straightened her back. She let go of the woman's hair as she understood she was no longer again in danger of vomiting, but she still watched her closely and with a slightly narrowed eye. Out of everyone to leave the cells first, she had not expected it to be Raine, nor had she expected her to be in such a state. It was almost more alarming than it was puzzling, but Shamir allowed none of those emotions to reach her face as she watched Raine grimace. The look made her sigh, herself, before she began again in the same matter-of-fact tone, "There was no one about to see you, so I believe you're safe for the time being. Injured and sick, you're still faster than most... but I imagine you'd prefer to stay here rather than go to a healer?"

Raine shook her head automatically before she could answer with speech, and she was grateful when the sniper did not push her farther, as others might have. It was true, she felt absolutely exhausted and hurt, but she had no intention of skulking away into the healer's tents when others needed attention so much more sorely than she did. She was simply still trying to absorb everything she had learned and saw, and the process was not an easy one. Her stomach was still swirling and clamping down painfully, and she cradled it with her good hand as she replied shakily, "No... I'll be fine, given a few minutes..."

"You're a poor liar. Just like your brother. It must be an inherited trait." Shamir mused with a cocked eyebrow, but she knew she was only repeating old comments as Raine dodged her gaze and merely stared down with a look of broken exhaustion on her face. Shamir shook her head, wondering at the stubbornness, but understanding it intimately all the same. Warin had bottled his emotions so tightly that the ensuing explosion when he had finally managed to find safety had taken a toll on his body, too, and she could see clearly enough that his sister was feeling the same. It didn't surprise her a whit, considering how fiercely the woman took on the burden of commanding, but she was still human at heart. She could not hide her true feelings or reactions forever. She smiled wanly, lips thin and eyes flat with cool amusement as she continued, "Seeing Rhea again must have been something of a shock. From the Almyrans, she wasn't in good shape, but still had the energy to remain tight-lipped and arrogant, yeah? At least whatever was done to her here wasn't permanent, if that's truly the case. Does that relieve you, or anger you?"

Shamir received no answer, but she did not truly expect one as she felt Raine's hot glare on her like a knife slashing over her skin. It was a surprising show of irritation, especially for someone who looked like she was ready to fall face-first back into the grass if she let her go, but Shamir knew personally just how strong the Eisner siblings truly were. Even if their minds were ready to break, even if their bodies hovered on the brink of collapse... Somehow, they always managed to stand again to keep fighting. It was admirable, but also horrifying, how they had such strength of spirit. Any lesser men or women would have broken long ago, but still the brother and sister continued dragging themselves forward as if they were made of something sterner than mere flesh and bone.

"You're not as alone as you believe yourself to be, you know. It would do you some good to let your students in to support you." Shamir was aware it wasn't her place to be saying such things, and from the sharp, warning glint in Raine's eyes, she knew full well she was overstepping... but she didn't much mind. She was stirred to overstep, to ignore the boundaries and the rules by both a sense of obligation and compassion, and she allowed those feelings to spur her on as she refused to allow her arm to be shrugged off of the frailer woman's shoulders. She tightened her grip instead, proving her own mettle, and she held those exhausted, but still smouldering eyes with her own as she continued, "They know full well that something else is waiting for you, after we deal with the remnants of Thales' men. They've been watching you closely, waiting for a signal you've yet to give... and they're ready to leap the moment they feel needed. To a man, and for better or worse, the entirety of your house will continue to wage war, against whatever enemy you point them at, until you say they can lay down their arms. Why are you hiding the truth from them?"

"They don't need to fight my battles."

The short, curt answer brought a sharp chuckle from Shamir despite herself, and she shook her head as a smile curled at her lips. It was so expected, and yet so exasperating... She truly was blind. Blind, or either deliberately obtuse. Shamir had no patience for fools, even injured and sickly ones, and she did not spare the woman she was kneeling beside as she remarked idly, "Is that so? Then why did you risk life and limb, time and time again, to fight theirs? Don't call it obligation. You were doing it from the very beginning, when you were first roped into this mess, and you had no reason to do so, then. Now, you have even less. From the start you made your students' problems your own, and then it escalated from there, until you were dragged all the way to the steps of the throne of Enbarr to put an end to a civil war raging across Fódlan. You may have had your nose put somewhere it didn't belong, but you kept it there of your own volition when you were let go of your collar. Why the double standard when it comes to your students doing the same for you?"

"They've fought enough. All of them have." Raine's answer was tired, world-weary, and she sagged despite herself wishing she could access that ball of flame that was swirling around so thickly in her gut. She still ached so deeply at her five lost years, and all of what it meant. She had been gone, asleep for all lack of a better word, while her precious students became soldiers and fought like madmen as their homes burnt down about their ears. Who was she to tell them that they had to continue, now that the first glimpse of peace had finally been sighted throughout the smoke and embers of war? "If there's to be conflict between the Church and I, I would prefer they stay out of it. _Far_ out of it. Their futures would be at risk otherwise. Especially Dimitri's. Regardless of my opinion on Rhea, there's little question that the Church of Seiros is still needed for the future... I won't see it torn down over something as petty as ego."

"Ego, is it? If your students saw you now, they wouldn't be going to war for your _ego_ , Raine." Shamir noted with a raised eyebrow, and she felt a macabre sort of interest to hear Raine parroting her brother, albeit completely unknowingly. How little did they truly think of themselves, did they think of their impressions on others, to believe that this fight of theirs was a fight they had to handle on their own? She knew the answer already, and she had to chuckle again as she pointed out bluntly, "They love you. Each and every last one of them, in their own peculiar and particular ways. You earned not only their trust, but their gratitude and their loyalty, because of how deeply you cared for them and their woes when they were young. Doubly so because you returned to free their homelands. You say it's not their fight, but all of them would disagree on that... and, speaking frankly, so do I."

"You're on Warin's side, so of course you would disagree..."

The comment made her smile, though it was with genuine amusement rather than exasperation or annoyance. It was rare, exceedingly rare, that even Raine would ever make mention of the relationship between herself and her brother, and she admitted she had a fair deal of respect for her politeness. If anyone had a right to stick their nose in her business, it was Warin's little sister, and she had well prepared herself for a scolding or an interrogation the moment she had chosen to share her room with the man. Yet, Raine had kept her distance, only showing an approving smile every so often, and granting their wishes to be paired up on the battlefield at all times. She didn't need to heed them, but she did, and that alone spoke volumes of how she felt of them. Of her. She sat back on her heels, allowing her smile to widen as she corrected her with a dismissing wave of her hand, "Wrong, actually. Even if I wasn't involved with your brother... I would be willing to put my bow to your cause against the Church, should you need it."

Those words caught Raine off guard, and for a moment, she forgot everything that had brought her to this point. She turned on her knees, looking at Shamir closely and with narrowed eyes. Those words were not words to be spoken lightly, especially by someone in the profession of taking lives for coin, and she felt a deep pulse of both unease and confusion as she looked Shamir over. They both knew the code. They had all but been raised by it. To hear her denounce it, so readily, so easily, when she knew that the code was the one thing keeping her brother from saying the words they all knew he was desperate to say... Raine shook her head this time, and she replied, none too kindly, "You're a mercenary, and I understand better than most how that works. You're under contract with the Church still, despite things. Your debt to Rhea is no more, I do know that much, but you'd _still_ turn on your employer at _my_ behest? Why?"

"I've turned on others, and for far lesser reasons. But if you want the truth of it, as it stands now, if _you_ requested it of me, I'd turn on any employer in a heartbeat. As for why... That's quite simple." Shamir replied with a light shrug of her shoulders, and she was totally unbothered by the flicker of distrust and confusion that was her answer. She supposed she earned it, considering how alike they were and how deeply enmeshed their mercenary work had become in their lives, but some things were more important than a code, or a contract. She met and held Raine's stare again, and explained simply, "All that time ago, when Flayn was kidnapped, you came to question me about it. But before you said a word about your investigation, you apologized. Do you remember that?"

"I... I do. But why does that matter?"

"Because for the first time in quite a long while, someone was approaching me not as a mercenary, not as a knight, but as a person. Even when suspicion was justified. You had no doubts of my innocence, but because the situation was dire, and on someone's word, you came asking for me all the same. But you still apologized before doing your due diligence. That was a courtesy I wasn't owed... but I appreciated the gesture. And all of the other gestures you've given me since." Shamir's explanation came easy, though a small part of her wished to fidget awkwardly at having to speak her secrets. Raine was much like her brother in many ways, but she did not understand her in the strange, wordless way that Warin did. Words were necessary if they were to reach a true accord, and it went against her usual nature to speak so frankly, but she forced herself on as she understood she owed her that small courtesy, "I am Dagdan. I am a mercenary. I am an outsider. All of these things I'm used to, and it hasn't earned me many friends. I preferred that. I still do. But that doesn't make me immune to acts of kindness and compassion. You treated me as you treated anyone else, and I was grateful for it, even if it confused me at first. I mourned your loss, and celebrated your return... and I've realized that if I'd let anyone lead me, without question or contract, it would most likely be you. You have my loyalty, and my respect. And I don't say such things lightly."

Raine bit back the words that threatened to overwhelm her at the proclamation of friendship and care, and her stomach clenched again violently as it fought with her internal reaction and her knee-jerk desire to clamp down on it. She wanted to rant and rave, to scream that she was _not_ worthy of loyalty or respect no matter what anyone said, but the words simply would not come out. It was all lies, sweetly uttered and likely true in the mouths of the ones who spoke them, but she felt a traitor for accepting it. She could only offer a small smile, faking gratitude and acceptance, as her chest tightened and her inner self screamed for her selfishness.

It _was_ obligation. It always had been, and she couldn't accept anything else. She had had no love for anyone in her house when she had first accepted the mantle of professor, and it had taken moons, long moons, before she had felt affection for anyone. She had awkwardly been bumbling her way on the path put ahead of her, and it infuriated her that no one could see the reality. She was no saint. No woman blessed by the Goddess. She was just a monster in the shape of a human, trying to understand why she was as she was, and fighting against a current that continuously swept her along. She did was she was ordered to do, because that had been her nature. Nothing had changed enough to excuse her past behaviour. Not a single thing.

Shamir was silent as she watched the emotions flickering wildly through the pale-faced woman's eyes, and she let out a breath as she understood she was fighting too much of a losing battle. Her voice simply wasn't enough to convince her but she knew many others were. It would take time, time, rest, energy and more than a little shoving, but eventually... She fully believed that Raine would one day see herself the way so many others did. For the moment, she had said enough, and she positioned herself more comfortably on the ground before sighing lightly, "Take a few minutes to get the rest of your breath back before you try to get to your feet. Your prince, or your brother, will come to find you soon enough. You don't mind my company till then, do you?"

"So long as you never again call Dimitri "my prince", I don't." Raine answered with an exhausted, and defeated, sigh. Shamir was a stubborn woman, and she was emotionally and physically drained. She doubted she could get to her feet on her own anyway, and she also was fully aware Shamir would hold her still until someone stronger, and more trusted, arrived to help her on her way. She was grateful even if she was exasperated, but she knew better than to voice either such thoughts. This moment, between her and the woman her brother loved, was something rare... and despite it, despite her own feelings, she wanted to enjoy what little she could. It was better than the alternative, being left alone with her illness and her dark thoughts, and she closed her eyes as she allowed herself to lean on Shamir's proffered shoulder. She'd chastise herself for her weakness later. For the moment... She would rest. Tomorrow was another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Not much to really say here, as it's more of an intermediary chapter than anything else. I'm currently in a weird place of transit (as I'll be heading home to Canada very soon after a short stay over in the south for my fiance), and I'll need a lot of rest once I get home. Hopefully it won't be bothering me too much though on the writing front. I need to cuddle my cat so much. I love him to pieces, even if he annoys the ever-loving fuck out of me. He's such a doorknob, but he's also MY doorknob... I've got separation anxiety.
> 
> Anywhosit, a firm two and a half weeks of government mandated quarantine will be enjoyable? I've got a new game to keep me occupied; Final Fantasy: Crystal Chronicles. Ever since the announcement of the remaster, I've been hopping wildly about waiting for it. I played the original, and still own it, but having a remaster where I could finally play with others, even if it was online... Whoo, I'm stoked. It'll be an interesting time, playing that one damned level with some help beyond Mog. I mean, I love Mog, don't get me wrong, he's my baby, but... CAST FIRE/THUNDER AND I WON'T KICK YOU AND MAKE YOU A STAR, GOD DAMN YOU.
> 
> Ahem. Anywhosit. Is time for sleep for me. I am exhausted, and am totally in need of packing it in before doing some refreshing in my FE playthroughs. I've got a lot of lore to reread and study for the coming chapters, and I don't want to make too many errors... Mind, I also don't want to stick so close to the lore that it becomes boring. It's a weird balancing act... and I'm rambly. Time for bed. Y'all stay healthy, and I shall see you again soon!
> 
> Mood: Sleepy.
> 
> Listening To: "Fallen Leaves" - Billy Talent
> 
> ~ Sky


	30. Frayed Nerves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Rating: Family, Romance, Truth. (M)
> 
> Characters: Warin, Shamir.
> 
> Summary: Days on days of tension, of awkward silences and fervent prayer from the masses were beginning to wear on the already frayed tempers of those who were not yet ready to return to the morn of peace. War still held in the distance for the few ragged soldiers ready to face those enemies that still held in the shadows, and concern for the return of the archbishop was the last thing on their minds. For the two most eager to move forward there could be no advancement, not until Rhea's health improved and their next move was made... but patience was not Warin's strong suit, and what little he already had was wearing painfully thin.

**Horsebow Moon**

**Garreg Mach (Arena)**

**Evening**

Jab.

Uppercut.

Downward slash.

Roundhouse kick.

Guard.

Repeat.

The drill was monotonous without a partner, numb and mechanical, but Warin threw himself into the motions nonetheless with all that he had. Each movement of his arms and legs came with a great exhalation of breath, as if he was truly trying to do harm to the swarms of invisible enemies he was fighting off, and the blades on his gauntlets whistled in time with his every swing. Sweat trickled down from his matted hair, sliding underneath his open collar to elicit a round of goosebumps, but still he continued without notice. His body wasn't yet tired, even if his mind was, and he needed something, anything, to distract himself from the exhaustion and tension that had been slowly but surely building up for the past week and a half.

Had it been only so short of a time? It felt like weeks had already passed since the archbishop had returned to Garreg Mach, but he knew better. She had retreated to her quarters in the centre building, attended to by her own retinue of healers so not to disturb the influx of men and women who were burdening the infirmary, and had not shown her face since. It did not matter, though, as her presence was felt wherever one looked with little difficulty, whether it be the hope the faithful were showing with their smiles, or the quiet, wary footsteps of the Blue Lions as they watched their professor closely for a sign for their next move.

If there was a sign to be given of what to do next concerning her return, Raine was giving absolutely none. All she spoke of was the wait for the scouts, the mustering of their remaining forces for the fortress of the Agarthans, and little else. According to the note she had seen from Hubert, the mountain range far in the north, deep in the Alliance territory was where their enemies had made their base, and all of the generals had agreed that it was suicidal to take an army so far with such little knowledge to go on. So, instead, House Goneril was providing scouts, seeing as Holst had seen fit to withdraw his troops back to his territory to begin repairs, and he had offered some of his men to the effort in lieu of his withdrawal.

They now were waiting, sitting on what felt like a powder keg as none broached the subject of what was to come next now that the archbishop had finally returned after her years of imprisonment. She was weak and sickly, needing time and magic to heal both her battered body and mind, and the healers had been blunt in explaining her situation was a difficult one. She would need intensive care and even more watchful eyes on her at all times before anyone could even consider the idea of the transfer of power back to where it truly belonged. For now, it was a tacit agreement that Raine, as she had been ordered before, would continue to act on her behalf when it came to dealing with the Agarthan threat they were facing, but all else still remained painfully up in the air.

Their army had diminished greatly, leaving only a handful of men and women left to finish what had been started. Warin admittedly could not blame those who had turned homeward, as the three territories had suffered greatly already, and if their smallfolk were to ever begin recovery, it had to begin immediately. The entirety of the Alliance's forces had withdrawn back to their respective territories, while Claude and Leonie remained behind. Claude's Almyran forces stayed with him, but no one admittedly was sure whether it was an oath, threat, or promise of power that kept his men at hand. Rodrigue had likewise withdrawn to Fhirdiad, after an explicit order from Dimitri to begin the reclamation of his territory in his absence, and to take his war-weary men along with him. They had been fighting too long, and many were simply too tired to continue onwards. They needed to return home, to see their families and rest and rebuild, and Dimitri had been wise to send them back for both their sake, and the sake of the people he could not yet return to himself.

Many were fleeing, but others were also returning, leaving the monastery in an odd space of limbo that was doing no good for those who remained behind in wait of their next mission. The few who had hidden in the Empire, fearing retribution for their faith, or for their anger at Edelgard's reign, had come in search of refuge now that Enbarr had been emptied of their former oppressors. There was still so much damage in the capital that few of the residents in the city could hope to return or settle without rebuilding first, and while many of the defected Imperial soldiers had turned for home, it would be moons, long, long moons, before the damage that had been done, and the blood that had been spilled in the streets would be washed away.

Then there was the obvious vacuum of power that had been left behind in the wake of the Emperor's death, and there was unease at every turn when the words of who was to take the throne came up in conversation. It did not matter that Dimitri had made his intent as a liberator and not a conqueror known to all, as the Empire was still left without leadership in the interim. Those loyal to their homeland were returning to build what they had torn down, but no one was in a clear position of guiding them. There were whispers of course, of who would be best suited, or appointed, but Dimitri and Raine had both coldly shut the topic down when it had first been broached after their return to the monastery. The fires in the streets had only just stopped smoking, and many were still unburied. It was not yet time for politics, regardless of the outside pressure of the nobility.

Warin grimaced, wondering how on earth the two could manage such a delicate dance, but he knew full well they were barely scraping by with their sanity intact. Raine was feeling more pressure than ever now, and yet she was standing tall instead of retreating as she once would have done to save her own mental health. She attended her training and councils without fail, always calm, always calculated, but there was little doubt in anyone's mind that she was more burdened than ever. Dimitri was always by her side, a quiet but fierce presence that kept the impatient and demanding away, but even he was lagging. He was carrying both his own burden and her own, and as much as they were supporting one another, there was only so much they could carry before their knees weakened under the weight.

The doors of the arena swinging open alerted him to the presence of another, and despite himself, Warin felt his arms twitch at his sides in irritation. It was late, and most of the drills that were still being run were usually held in the early afternoon when the air was a little more brisker. He had chosen a later hour for hopes of not being interrupted by Rodrigue's son, who had been taking to training alone more and more often as of late, and he had little desire to put his lance to the young man's sword. He was still carrying guilt from the battle in Enbarr's streets, and the wound that was faintly caressing his lover's pale throat, and such a bout weighed down by those feelings were of no good to either man. He needed clarity and sharpness, not muddled emotions and self-loathing... though with a wry smile, he had to wonder if he was thinking only of his sister's student, or rather his own needs.

"Well, you look terrible. Have you been training all day?"

Sighing, Warin dropped his arms as Shamir's question went through him like an arrow made of ice. Her tone was conversational, but as he took a glimpse upwards over the walls at the setting sun, he was well aware that she was not there simply to talk. He was late in his usual routine of returning, for the third straight day, and she had finally come calling rather than sitting back and waiting for him to come to her. It was a sign of her waning patience, something he knew he owed her an apology for, but instead he shook his arms, brushing the sweat from his brow on the back of his sleeve as he answered her question flatly, "Most of the afternoon, really... It's stifling everywhere I go. At least here, there's a little bit of quiet to enjoy."

"Quiet... Right." Shamir mused, and Warin caught her lifting her eyebrows in disbelief out of the corner of his eye as she rounded him with a questioning look. He didn't move, allowing for her sharp gaze to take in everything she wanted to see, and clearly she wasn't impressed as she finally shook her head and moved to seat herself on a nearby crate just out of his reach. She perched on the edge, head tilted somewhat like a cat inspecting something they were questioning pouncing on, and she continued with an errant flick of her wrist, "It's been nothing _but_ quiet since our march back... Annoyingly so. Even the celebrations in the chapel are muted out of concern for the so-called "respite" Rhea is taking. There's been whispers she may be permanently handing off her mantle, even with her return."

"To who? Seteth?" Warin asked dryly, though a small, and dark little part of him was fully aware that his question was not at all a rhetorical one. He hadn't heard the whispers himself, but he could well imagine what was being said in hushed tones whenever Rhea's health was being questioned. The commander of the rebellion, the future King's right-hand and the current acting leader of the Church of Seiros had made a name for herself in this war... It was not surprising that the masses she had saved, willingly or no, would wish for her to remain if Rhea would not. He shook his head, hands clenching down into tight fists as he muttered darkly, "If that's her plan, trying to rope her into staying permanently, she's taken too many blows to the head in the dungeons... I won't allow it. She could easily issue comforting words through her mouthpieces, but instead she's holed up in her quarters and letting the populace spin things for her..."

Shamir watched him silently for a moment, musing that more than ever he looked like a caged animal that was desperately seeking for an escape from his chains. His eyes were distant and cold, his body language tense and closed off, but none of it was truly a surprise. He didn't want to be within a league of Rhea, and being forced to live under the same roof as her again had ignited all of the worst traits in him with a fury. It was almost as if he had been transported back in time six years, when he had been an angry, unwilling and icy young man under the yoke of his father, but Shamir knew better. He had no chains to bind him except for those he wore willingly, and those almost were more dangerous than the leash that had been put on him all those years ago when he had first arrived. "I'm surprised you haven't kicked down the doors yourself yet."

"I've wanted to, but the threat of losing my head to Catherine, or to Raine, is keeping me tightly at heel for the moment." Warin answered with an annoyed grunt, and he clenched his fists once more before retracting the blades on his gauntlets before his temper got the better of him. Catherine hadn't left the centre building since Rhea's return, taking up her post as her lady's bodyguard once more with her return, and Cyril had joined her without a word. The only two who were permitted through the closed doors to her inner chambers besides her hand-picked healers were Seteth and Flayn, but even their visits had been sparse. Seteth had been forced into action, soothing those who wanted to see their spiritual leader and delaying their questions and demands, while his daughter was balancing her duties with Rhea and inside of the infirmary. "There's little I can do right now but wait... and I've never been the most patient man. This at least is all I can do, until it's time to fight. It's the only damned thing I'm good at."

"You and your sister have a very strange habit of underselling your better qualities." Shamir noted with that same ironically cocked eyebrow, but there was a tinge of gentleness in her gaze that belied her words. She swung herself off of her perch, stretching her arms over her head in an errant sort of way before she glanced over to the lance that Warin had set aside for his training. She reached for it without asking for permission, knowing she didn't need it anyway as she hefted the weapon experimentally in one hand. It was Warin's personal lance, therefore it was heavier than the one she usually would fight with, but it was a lance all the same and she gave it an easy twirl before turning on her heel to face him. "You aren't tired, right? Shall we spar a little?"

"I'm not tired, but I don't think it's a good idea-" Warin began hesitantly, and the rest of his words were cut off as Shamir pounced without waiting for his permission. Instinctively he raised his arms, catching the blow between his gauntlets, and he leapt back as she forced herself forward. It shouldn't have surprised him, her deciding to continue without his input, but he pulled back all the same as she began to circle him. Her footwork was immaculate, keeping him turning in time with her every movement, and he pulled a face as he tensed instinctively for her next blow, "You're not going to stop, are you?"

"No." The answer was blunt, and came with a sharp stab that Warin had to spin to avoid. She was fast even with a heavy weapon in hand, and worse, she knew exactly how he fought and how to counteract it. They were partners in battle more often than they were in sparring these days, but that didn't matter. They still knew each other better than anyone else, and Shamir was not merciful with that knowledge as she pushed her advantage. Her opponent was hesitant, dodging rather than countering, and she pushed on forward with another sweep to his mid-section, "You've been fighting a ghost since you were a little boy. Now, you've a chance to fight the person responsible for most of your misery, and you're still holding back. Still fighting ghosts. Fight me instead for a little while. I can handle it."

Warin gritted his teeth as his arms moved automatically, catching the tip of the lance on his left gauntlet to absorb the majority of the blow. As strong and thick as his weapon was, it required equal strength to use it properly, and Shamir simply didn't have the brute strength he had. Speed and skill weren't enough to supplement the force, but it kept him on his toes all the same when she withdrew gamely, watching him closely for a reaction. He didn't give chase, shaking his head even as her words pierced into him as if he wasn't wearing armour at all. He hated how accurate she was, how cruelly she could shoot her words as well as her arrows, but he was well aware he was deserving of it even as he asked wearily, "And if I don't want to?"

"Then I'll make you. Unlike the others here, and unlike yourself, _I'm_ not afraid of you." Shamir countered easily, and she leapt with a slash, forcing Warin again to slide backwards in an attempt to evade her. It irked her, seeing how adamant he was about dancing about both her and the subject he still wasn't broaching, though a small part of her did understand. He was still hurting. Those wounds from his boyhood hadn't ever really healed. They'd merely scabbed over, and time after time, those scabs had been ripped open before scar tissue could take their place. Now, his wounds were bleeding freely, with no one and nothing capable of staunching the flow... but she hadn't been there before to try. She was there now. "Come on, now. Stop dancing about. It's not your style. Fight me like you mean it, or I'll corner you, and make you. You don't have much of a choice here."

A neat twirl sent the blunt end of the lance flying upwards, and Warin only barely managed to swing his head left to avoid having it connect directly with his chin. The whistle of the thick steel by his ear was almost deafening, and as the lance finished its rotation, he was forced to lift his arms as the blade came down again. His gauntlets caught the blow with ease, though sparks hissed up as the metal screeched along metal, and his chest felt hot and tight as Shamir refused to give ground. Her expression was painfully neutral, painfully calm, and he wondered at her with a clench deep in his stomach. She was stubborn... but he was, too, and that was simply something they were both incapable of stopping no matter how they tried.

The blows came faster, forcing him on the defensive as she refused to give him even a moment to breathe. He had no choice but to raise his fists, blocking each time she swung and catching the blade on the thick, layered plates that now protected his forearms. He hissed instinctively, teeth grinding as he wondered at her and bristled simultaneously. It wasn't often that she pushed him, and usually when she did, it was always for his betterment. This however felt different, felt too risky, and he hesitated to cede to her, blocking her blows as best as he could manage rather than allowing for himself to return them. They were both appropriately geared for it, she had obviously come knowing a match was a possibility, but it didn't give him any comfort.

Still, she wasn't giving him an inch and his body was reacting instinctively even if he didn't wish for it. Every blow was coming harder, and he was reacting as he pushed away her stabs and slashes with more force each time. There was a flash in her eye as she circled about him, either amusement or appreciation, and his temper flared despite himself as she whirled out again for his midsection. He swung his hips right, easily sidestepping her movement and his right hand moved automatically to knock the blade farther away from his body. Her grip tightened automatically, attempting to leverage herself, and Warin felt his body moving without his consent as instinct and anger took over.

In a flash, the lance was knocked out of her hand, and he pinned her against the nearest wall with one arm grasping her wrist while the other raised for her throat. His hand trembled in his gauntlet as he fought the instinctive urge to press the button that would unsheathe the blades, and for a moment everything was silent and cold as he realized where his training and basic reaction had brought him. He hadn't thought, only moved, and in an instant she was at his mercy, her throat exposed for his blades and her clear, wine-coloured eyes locked fearlessly onto his as if challenging him to finish what would normally come so easily to him. How many others had he felled in the exact same manner, with just a twitch of his finger, and a spray of crimson? He had long since stopped counting, but the number still kept growing all the same.

His blood turned to ice as he stood like a statue, realizing where he had been pushed and just how damn easy it had been for her to do so. It didn't seem to matter how tightly he leashed himself, how much time he poured into training, as everything seemed to be tied as tightly to the triggers on his gauntlets, and needed so little to push them down. It would be so easy, too easy, for the blades to swing and for her throat to open. Too easy for her blood to flow at his own hands with merciless precision. He'd done it so many times... but once more would bring the entirety of the world crashing down if he hadn't stopped himself at the very last second.

Cursing, Warin jerked his arm away and stepped back as his heart begun to pick up speed in his chest from the panic of the realization of just how close he had come to harming her. He moved to fully retreat, thinking of nothing but turning his back and fleeing both her and the arena, but a strong grasp on his arm stopped him in his tracks. He was yanked back none too gently, and he all but stumbled from the force of her pull. This time she was the one to sidestep, letting him crash into the wall before she turned the positions around and pinned him against the stone instead. She pressed a hand to his chest, holding him in place as the other grasped at his hand, pulling insistently even as he began in protest, "H-Hey, what are you-"

Words failed him as she finally grasped his hand and raised it, settling his long fingers on her throat without once ever breaking eye-contact with him. His blood froze over and his body refused to move as he felt her pulse hammering against his fingers in testament to the adrenaline that had been flowing through her during their bout. He noted that his hand was trembling under her grip, refusing to dare to even twitch in case he applied any sort of pressure to her throat, but whatever words he wanted to speak were cut out from under him as she spoke in a clear, calm voice, "If you wanted to hurt me, you've had plenty of chances to since we met. All it would take is a squeeze of your hand. Death is easy. I know that just as well as you do. It's in our blood to be mercenaries. To be killers. I made my peace with that when I was dying in Dagda, under the corpses of my partners and friends. You made yours when you were chased across the continent with the Imperial army at your back. But that time is over. For both of us. I am not afraid of you. So stop being afraid _for_ me. You couldn't hurt me even if you wanted to."

Warin shook his head slowly, but with firm strength, he pulled his hand loose of her grip to settle it down at his side. She didn't remove her own hand, keeping him pinned, and he allowed for it as much as his entire body was screaming at him to push her aside and run. He hated being trapped. Hated the idea of restraints. It was enough to bring bile up into his throat, to make his body shiver with fear and hate and the urge to fight, but he mastered it with brute force as he understood Shamir wasn't going to allow him to flee. Not unless he moved her himself, and he did not have the strength of will to do so. Not after what he had almost already did. The thought made his voice hoarse and ragged as he corrected her even as he cast his eyes away from hers, "I nearly did."

"And you tried to run away the second you saw where instinct took you. You have better control of yourself than you think. Too much, maybe. If you just vented every once and awhile instead of holding it so close to your chest, you wouldn't have to be on edge as often as you are." Shamir answered in that same calm and even tone, and he winced under her hand in proof that she had hit far too accurately for his liking. Still, he was staying where she had pinned him, giving into her despite his desires, and she took full advantage of it while she had it. She knew well enough that the situation could break like glass in an instant if either of them faltered, and so she pushed forward to not give him a moment to let his thoughts run away with his better sense, "Rhea will be dealt with eventually. I won't question you or your sister's desires to finish this war entirely before attending to your personal matters... but I won't let you abuse yourself in the interim, either. I may not be capable of picking you up and dragging you off the training grounds like the prince can, but I can stop you in your tracks with other means. I'm not afraid to fight dirty, if you haven't noticed. So are you going to listen to me, or are you going to make me knock you unconscious for a few hours?"

"Are those my only options?"

Shamir cocked an eyebrow, silently questioning if he was going to push her, but he held his ground and her gaze fearlessly. There was a tortured look in his eye, pained and tense and haunted, and she let out a tired breath as she felt an odd sort of loving exasperation. He never made anything easy... but she supposed that was why she had fallen in love with him in the first place. She had always loved a challenge, and a good gamble. He made both too exciting, too tantalizing, and the thought brought a smirk to her lips as she pushed on his chest a bit more firmly to hold him still as she stepped in closer.

Warin wasn't sure what he had expected of her as she advanced, but the sensation of her lips on his moments after her strong push was definitely not on the list. Her hand lay flat and commanding, refusing to let him shrug her away, but any such thoughts of escape were fleeting as her other raised to gently feather its way over his chest and throat. Her fingertips were gentle, tracing the shape of his scar as it was lost behind his ear and then curling up into his hair, and he heard more than he felt himself sigh as she nipped his lower lip to force him to open his mouth for her tongue. His arms twitched at his sides as she swept in fearlessly, tasting, claiming and urging an answer, and again instinct overrode better sense and complied with her.

"Mm..." Shamir murmured her approval, pressing herself closer as she felt his tension easing underneath her palm when he answered her. His left arm was slow in lifting, careful and almost hesitant in draping itself over her waist to draw her against him, but she didn't mind it overmuch. He was still vulnerable, still afraid, but she knew how to draw him out, and was not nearly as concerned as he was. He flattened himself against the pillar, allowing for her to press herself all the more firmly against him, and she leaned in closer as she pulled his head down none too gently to urge him to further passion.

She tasted sweet, even if her movements were harsh and unyielding as she pulled him around the pillar and out of sight of the doors lest someone walk in to see them. He followed her wordless orders obediently, unable to resist even though a small part of him told him he had to unless he wanted her to sweep him entirely away. However, by the time he had the better sense to think of it, she had already taken him to the ground, shoving him onto his knees and straddling him in the same movement with graceful ease. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tilting his head back for easier access, and his hands moved of their own will to grasp her hips and clasp her closer.

Shamir broke first, pulling away with a heavy pant lacing her breathing as she looked down at him with lust purring away heatedly in her veins. His face had flushed, even in the darkening shadows where she had pulled him away to hide themselves, and his eyes were half-lidded as he stared up at her with a similar hunger clouding that sharp, navy gaze. His hands felt hot as they slid themselves thoughtlessly underneath her jacket, wanting to feel even the slightest hint of her bare skin under her bodice, and she arched her back, guiding his touch southwards as she murmured, "You haven't touched me since we marched to Enbarr... I'm not waiting until we get back to my quarters. Is that all right with you?"

Warin's brow furrowed as he realized she was speaking the truth, and it came as a bit of a shock as he looked up at her wordlessly. He _hadn't_ laid a hand on her ever since their march into the Imperial capital weeks ago, and only once during the fighting had he abandoned pretence to hold her for a kiss. His thoughts had been too cloudy and dark to think of her, and it irked him to realize he had left her wanting for more than a fortnight without even thinking about her. He shook his head slowly, hands tightening their grip on her as he leaned forward to nuzzle her heaving chest, "Damn it all, you're right... How have you been so patient with me...?"

"Does this look like patience to you?" Shamir shot back with a barely stifled laugh, and she helped his pulling hands to shrug herself out of her jacket before again rearranging herself in his lap. She tugged at his shirt in turn, and he lifted his arms obediently, and she couldn't hide an approving smile as she quickly rid him of one of the few obstacles keeping his body hidden from her eyes and hands. She sat up on her knees, pulling his arms to her front so she could begin unbuckling his gauntlets, and she pointed out with another trace of a chuckle as he lifted his hips to grind himself against her, "I have you on the ground in the training arena... Not exactly somewhere we've been brave enough to make into our own little hiding place for a tryst. I've tried to be patient, but clearly I'm not as good as you are at the waiting game."

"Odd, for a sniper." Warin couldn't help but reply as his gauntlets fell off his arms like a snakeskin, and he watched as she took his weapons with both of her hands and set them aside with a gentle care he knew she didn't need to show. She was already eager, the way she had almost torn his shirt off of him had proved it, but she was still caring for the things he treasured all the same, proving that even in the heat of things, she was never truly out of control. He yearned for that steadiness that he simply didn't have, and his hands were immediate in returning to her skin, fingertips kneading at the gentle slope of her waist as he pulled her closer to feather a hot breath against her neck, "You should be the epitome of patience..."

"You aren't my usual target." Shamir answered with a low sigh, and her head fell back as his lips pressed at first errantly to her collarbone, and then with more hunger and impatience. His tongue flicked out, tracing the curve of her throat as his hands reached south to fix on her backside, and he pulled her roughly into a better fit against his groin. She was happy to oblige him, settling herself more snugly and tightening her legs about his waist, and again his hips jerked upwards as he tugged her down, and her breath left her in a pleasured gasp as he ground into her with a surprising amount of force. Already his arousal was straining against his trousers, wanting and desperate for her, and her body reacted instinctively to apply more pressure and friction as she hissed back, "I don't have the willpower to wait for you to come to me every single time..."

"Sorry for making you wait, then..." Warin muttered as his mouth left a hot trail of wet kisses down her throat and towards the thin, black fabric of her bodice. He tugged it down with his teeth, too impatient to use his hands which were firmly fixed on her backside, squeezing and pushing her into a mocking rhythm of what their bodies truly wanted even though their clothes were keeping them apart. He growled approvingly as the stiff material gave way, exposing her chest to him and the chill air of the arena, and his lips found a new target for his ministrations almost at once. Her pleased little gasp as his tongue rolled her pert nipple in his mouth sent a sharp heat shooting down his spine, and his fingers tightened, kneading into her skin before he muttered roughly, "Tell me what you want me to do."

"Don't bother with your trousers... I want you _now._ " Shamir's voice was strained, muffled through her hand as his teeth closed down on her sensitive peak in approval of her unabashed commands. His hands released her only for a moment, shuffling to obey as his tongue swirled about her one straining nipple before finding its mate to give it equal attention, and her own hands were clumsy and rushed as she yanked her own trousers down her legs to free herself for him. There was only a few more moments of impatient fussing before they both were well enough prepared, and she bit her lower lip to stifle a groan as she lowered her knees to take him inside with one smooth movement.

Warin didn't bother to try to hide his pleasure, hissing loudly as she took him to the brink with one thrust of her hips, and the way their clothes rubbed between their connected bodies was an odd pleasure all of its own as they started to move. She wrapped her arms about his shoulders, anchoring herself to his beat as he found the rhythm easily enough, and every little gasp and moan she made was music to his ears. She was trying her best to muffle herself, and a saner, detached part of him understood well considering how well the arena could echo, but another part of him was dissatisfied with her attempts to hide her satisfaction.

It had been weeks since he had last tasted her, and the reminder of her was now roaring through his body like a live flame. It craved her above all else, sanity included, and it was not pleased to hear her trying to stifle her voice now. He minded his position, not wishing to throw her against the cold stone to have his way with her, but she wasn't permitted to leash herself if he had to do the same. His hands moved to her thighs, pulling her roughly down each time she descended, and when she choked on a moan his teeth scored her nipple with eager intent. She gasped and pulled back, clearly surprised, and he met her cloudy eyes with a sharp, demanding glare before he ordered her gruffly, "Moan for me. As loud as you want. I want to hear you _and_ feel you, Shamir."

"Damn you..." Shamir hissed as a sweet pinch of pain blossomed from his eager teeth, and there was little fighting him when he was so damned insistent. It was rare, too, that he would give her orders, and the thought truly didn't do her rebellious spirit any favours. She was craving him, after all, and if he wanted her to give voice to her pleasure, she doubted she would be able to disobey. Her hands clutched tighter, her nails scraping along his back and neck before tangling into his hair, and she jerked his head up as she lowered her own, panting into his ear as she continued to move with him, "You make me miss you, and then you've the gall to make demands...? If we were anywhere else, I'd throw you on the floor for that and make you beg until sunrise...!"

"There's time for that later." Warin's answer was harsh and unrelenting, and he growled with a primal sort of satisfaction as he heard her moan as his hips slammed upwards in time with hers. This time she couldn't muffle herself, and the sound of her breathless ecstasy was like a heavy, fine wine running through his veins. He had no idea how he had lasted so long without her, ignoring her, and the very idea made his head heavy with self-loathing and desire. He had to carve himself out in her body all over again, to remind the both of them that parting for any reason at all was criminal, and to ensure it would never happen again. It wasn't permitted. He needed her at all times, always. Forever.

"Stop making... promises you can't keep...!" Shamir groaned, her voice tightening as she fought to stave off that wild surging of electricity that was sparking across her skin. It hadn't truly been _that_ long, and yet when he touched her now in such an obvious frenzy, it felt as if he hadn't caressed her in forever. What was a little more than a fortnight, compared to the five long years she'd spent yearning and dreaming after him with so much unsaid and undone? Yet it seemed like an eternity, like they hadn't touched one another in a lifetime, and every inch of her was throbbing with want and pleasure and an insane lack of control that should have scared her instead of comforted her. He hadn't forgotten... He had only been distracted, and that was something she could correct.

Warin grunted in answer, pushing harder and tightening his grip on her creamy skin until he was sure he would leave marks for him to lave in apologetic and affectionate attention later. For now, however, that was a distant fever dream, and his mind was full of nothing but the desire for climax. Her hitched breathing in his ear, the low, purr-like moans and calls for his name each time he struck her deep inside, in that exact right spot that made her entire body tremble around his like some sort of pagan magic... He grit his teeth, burying his face in her neck as his body worked frantically, "D-Damn... I can't... I'm...!"

"Come for me, Warin." Shamir's voice was a silken whisper in his ear, encouraging, comforting and seductive all at once, and there was no fighting such an order. His hips moved in sharp, deep strokes, each one reaching that sweet spot she craved, and her nails sank into his back as she clung to him lest his sheer strength simply bucked her clear off. Sometimes, with how sweet and tender he usually was in bed, she forgot how strong he actually was, and the reminder only served to make her all the more eager to feel him shudder and tense and climax for her. It came an instant later, with an anguished, guttural noise somewhere in the crook of her neck and a powerful surge of his hips, and she felt her own orgasm instantaneously trigger with that one last push.

They froze like that for a few precious seconds, clinging so tightly their knuckles were white and their lips bitten so tightly that the threat of bleeding was incredibly real. They shivered and twitched together, holding on so tightly that for a blissful few moments, neither mercenary could really be certain where one ended and the other began. Shamir was the first to unravel, groaning softly as the strength in her body was swept away, and her chin came to rest on his shoulder as her eyes slid closed and her shoulders heaved with the effort to bring in air to her lungs. He followed her several moments later, his tense arms slackening and his body relaxing, and she felt rather than heard the satisfying thud of his back hitting the pillar they had been hiding behind.

It amused her, the idea of him flattening out on the ground from the effort and the blinding pleasure of the afterglow, but she didn't have the energy to look up and tease him for it just yet. Instead she stayed where she was, curled up around him and resting on his chest, enjoying the feeling of his bare skin on her own and the sensation of his heavy breathing in her hair. Every little twitch between their connected bodies sent a lightning flash through her nerves, making her bite her lip to muffle a whimper of both dismay and want, but she held it back with the last bit of self-control she had. It was risky enough already what they had done, and she respected his want for their more physical aspects of their relationship to mostly be left to the bedroom. She could be satisfied with this much for the moment. Their bed would still be there when they finally unravelled themselves from each other.

Yet, for all his usual diligence, Warin didn't seem at all inclined to move. His arms had tightened again about her, holding her close and with purpose, and she nestled just a little bit deeper into his embrace in quiet acceptance. His skin was hot in the chill of the coming night, a welcome balm considering her clothes were still half discarded, and she let her own arms remain curled loosely about his neck. He nuzzled the top of her head, his movement slow but careful, and she felt his hand extend somewhere behind her to grope for something before pulling back. He was silent as he shook her jacket out, carefully draping it over her bare shoulders in lieu of pulling her bodice up, and she hid a smile against his shoulder when he muttered against her temple, "I'd give you mine, but I'm not quite sure where it is at the moment. And I'm not really all that inclined to be moving yet."

"That's fine." Shamir bit the inside of her cheek to fight a giggle, and she let out a long, satisfied breath as those tight arms of his gave her an equally long, comforting squeeze. His hands were rubbing slow, methodical circles into her back and shoulders, easing out weeks worth of tension with careful strength, and against her better judgement, she allowed herself to relax. If he was in no hurry to dress and leave the scene of the crime, she felt no real need to rush, either, even if it was a risk. It wasn't as if the arena ever really stayed empty, regardless of the hour, and they were pushing things as it was. Still, his hands were warm, his embrace was comforting, and she was more than happy to enjoy what little she could snatch after being left quietly waiting.

A soft kiss pressed against the top of her head, and then those strong hands were gently moving her about in his lap with careful, but inescapable strength. She hissed softly as she felt herself being lifted off of him, her body already protesting and craving for more, but either he was wiser than she was, or was trying to avoid a repeat performance as he turned her about all the same. She wasn't entirely sure which was the case, so she didn't argue when his hands caressed her thighs and began to go about fixing her clothes for her. Her eyes fluttered closed as his callused skin brushed lovingly on hers, and each slow, intimate movement he made as he redressed her was nearly as erotic as the act of pulling her clothes off. Her head fell back despite herself as he lifted her bodice up, and she murmured as his hands cupped her chest to ensure the fit was right, "Do you have to make it feel so good...? You'll be taking it off again soon enough anyway..."

"No one gets to see you like this but me." Warin's answer came huskily in her ear, sending a delicious shiver through her body at the heat and hunger in his voice. She could well imagine the expression he was wearing was similar, possessive and jealous and lustful, though the hands that were smoothing themselves over her shoulders and arms were still as soft and gentle as ever. She stretched out luxuriously against him, firmly leaning back into his chest and curling her hands over the arm that was settled over her stomach, and she nearly purred when she felt him nuzzle against her neck. He peppered her skin with gentle kisses, likely roaming over marks he had left earlier that she couldn't yet see, and he squeezed her closer as she sat quiet and content between her legs, "Shamir..."

Hearing her name leave his lips in a low, almost worshipful-sounding sigh made her smile, and she watched as his left hand moved lazily down her arm to capture her hand in his. His thumb brushed against the band she was wearing on her ring finger, and she watched the way he played with her fingers as if he was trying to pretend his fixation wasn't actually there. His chin remained on her shoulder, clearly watching himself as she was watching him, and time and time again he would draw back to his mother's ring in a gentle caress that would have broken her heart in any other circumstance.

Now, however... Shamir watched him and felt something hardening in the pits of her stomach as he traced the shape of his mother's ring on her hand repeatedly. He had been true to his word all those moons ago, about never giving her a promise that he was unsure he could keep until the war was over, but she wondered why such a vow was now feeling more irksome than comforting. She had no illusions of what a future with him would entail, even after the war ended, and some sort of peace settled itself over the continent. Warin was a mercenary at heart, just as she was, and he would be leaving Garreg Mach far behind him in search of a return to the life he had once known and lived before the Church of Seiros, before Rhea, had once again gotten their claws into him and his family.

There was no question that she planned to follow him. There was even less that the remnants of Jeralt's men, and even a handful of the Knights, would also be chasing after him once he went. In everything but name he had become his father's successor, and his men, and her, would have no other leader. He was fair, blunt, and most importantly his care for his subordinates was real. He would see them all well-looked after, even if "peace" usually meant that those like them would have difficulty finding a way to fill their stomachs and keep a roof over their heads. He would pick missions that needed to be done, would apply his sense of justice to an uneven and unstable world, and would likely keep in close contact with his sister, which meant a steady supply of information and job opportunities would always be sent his way. He was an ideal employer. An ideal partner... She couldn't ask for a better future.

Yet... That promise hung over his head, and her own all the same. Mercenaries lived their lives by the edge of the blade. What future could he offer if the fighting was never going to really stop? She had seen the idea flicker in his eyes before, had caught him pondering over his own logic when he was alone and thought himself free to do so, and it had irked her then just as much as it irked her now. It was an unwritten rule, like so many that they lived by, that if one wanted to settle down and live a life with a partner, that it usually meant the end of their occupation. Young girls and boys were always warned about sharing a bed with a mercenary who would be gone in a fortnight, or perhaps dead even sooner.

Part of her was a little surprised by her own annoyance. She had agreed with him, after all. That she couldn't give him marriage or anything remotely of the sort while a war was raging. She had never really considered herself to be one for such formalities anyway. The actions between them meant more than words did, and she wore his ring regardless of vows, so what did it matter? Yet, all the same... She almost wanted to sigh. It was jealousy, plain and simple, that was causing all these conflicting feelings, and that was almost more annoying than anything else.

She was the sharpest eyed out of all of the archers in the rebellion's army, and little to nothing ever escaped her notice. Though it was usually in whispers, or in silent, subtle gestures, now that the chapter of the Flame Emperor had closed... Some were reaching for a new book altogether. She was well aware that the princess of Brigid was preparing to form a retinue of knights in her homeland, solely for the sake of one young archer who wished to be a knight almost as much as he loved a woman he believed to be far beyond his station. She had heard the young son of Rodrigue tell his father flatly that he would not be returning to Fraldarius alone, and to ensure that when his business with the Blue Lions was finished, that he would properly go about his training to be a lord, if there would be no quarrel about the woman he was choosing to bring home with him. Left and right were the signs of young couples readying themselves for true commitment, and she had seen, though she had not meant to, that even the prince was carrying a ring in his pocket, and there was no question there who he wished to take to Faerghus to be his queen once the battle was truly over.

"You can ask me, you know."

The words escaped her without warning, but once they fled her lips, she knew there was no taking them back. Warin had stiffened behind her, suddenly frozen at her declaration, and for a heartbeat, she couldn't quite blame him. She had taken _herself_ aback with her sudden speech, but now that the words were hanging in an echo about them... She was aware of that ugly ball of heat and metal in her stomach finally beginning to melt. She extended her fingers, allowing Warin's own to slip into the spaces in between, but she kept her eyes down as she repeated herself clearly, firmly, "I wouldn't... be put off... if you asked me."

Warin didn't answer immediately, feeling the weight of her words on his shoulders despite the warmth of the hand he was currently holding onto. She had ducked her head down, making it difficult for him to see her expression, but he didn't much need to, really. After all, her words had been more than enough to put everything cleanly on the table regardless, which he knew had been her intention. He tightened his hand, squeezing lovingly and feeling the warmth of her skin on his, and he brushed his thumb slowly across the rough shape of the gemstones on her band before speaking quietly, "You know what's been on my mind, I warrant... I doubt I need to explain myself, so I won't... but can I ask you to clarify something for me? Are you saying this to give me an out, or are you saying it because you've grown impatient?"

"I wouldn't call it an out. An out would imply you don't want to ask me at all." Shamir corrected him pertly, and she shifted just a little so she could glance over her shoulder to take in his face. His expression was sombre, intense, but there wasn't any fear or hesitation in his eyes. Just quiet concern, thoughtful worry, and that alone did wonders to her own sudden burst of anxiety. She met and held his gaze as her fingers returned the pressure on her own, and she continued calmly, quietly, "You want to ask me, but you're also afraid to. As if somehow you'd be making me a promise you can't keep if you did. Is that really the case?"

"Marriage on the road, marriage as mercenaries... I've never seen it happen in my lifetime, and I've been a mercenary since I was six... I said when the fighting was over, I could give you anything you asked for. But that implies an end to the fighting. An end to our careers. I don't see _that_ being an option in our near future." Warin's answer came slowly, tiredly, but the hand on hers never once twitched or seemed willing to release hers. Rather, he held on tighter, his thumb slowly, repeatedly stroking her ring finger as he continued, "We both aren't the type that want that standard happy ending that the brats seem to be searching for... but I won't lie and say that that kind of peace is abhorrent to me or anything. I just don't feel ready to... "settle down". I'll go anywhere with you, fight any battle I'm paid for and can stomach, but that's just like living the war, still, isn't it? Would you be happy with a marriage like that, without an "ending" really in mind? Or are you imagining something different, when you picture a future with me?"

Shamir bit her lower lip to hide a smile at his hesitant questioning, and her chest was tight as she let his words wander their way with lazy purpose through her mind. The future had always more often than not been a distant sort of concept rather than something she could actually imagine. That was a mercenary's life, moving constantly from one contract to the next, with life and limb always on the line for food and shelter. Settling down was usually something forced upon a sellsword, due to an injury or old age, and very few found themselves lucky to leave such an occupation for love or a happy retirement.

Still... Shamir let out a quiet breath before leaning in to rest her shoulder against his chest. He stiffened somewhat, surprised, but she only took advantage of the moment to snuggle herself in closer. She knew what he wasn't asking, what he was simply too afraid to speak about, but she wasn't about to force the words out of him. It simply wasn't fair, and she nestled in closer with another soft sigh as she felt his callused hand cradling hers with gentle, uncertain strength. Her answer came calm and gentle, but still straight to the point and merciless when she leaned her head against his chest, "I already considered all of this, you know. From that night when you tossed me the ring. And, if it gives you any comfort, I've also already made moves to walk on this path you're worrying over. I've already finished negotiations on one contract to leave me open for yours. Though, I'd prefer to think of it as more of a promise, and less of a contract, if I have to."

"Negotiations on a contract?" Warin repeated with narrowing eyes, though the understanding came swiftly as Shamir looked at him with a small, cat-like smile curling at her lips. He wondered why it surprised him, why she would already be three steps ahead of him, but that was just her way. Unlike him, she had no reason to dally, and also unlike him, she was already committed to a future. Or at least, from the sounds of it, she _had_ been. He shook his head slowly, bemused, yet genuinely appreciative as he muttered into her shoulder, "The Church must have hated to see you go... I can't imagine what they must have offered you to get you to stay."

"Not nearly enough." Shamir answered with a flippant flick of her wrist, but it amused her how he was looking down at her like she was holding the world in her hands for him. It couldn't have come as a surprise, that she would need to formally break her contract, or refuse to renew it, in order to leave alongside him. The war was over, and as such, so were her services. It was a formality more than anything, but she did muse that he was right that no one had been glad to see her make such a move. Seteth had openly mourned that her shoes would never be replaced, and while Catherine had forced a smile for her, there had been pain and a faint hint of loneliness already starting to darken her eyes.

It wasn't easy to do, and she was more aware than ever that she would miss her partner sorely when they went their own ways, but it was clear to both of them now that their paths had never meant to stay the same. Catherine's devotion to the Church, to Rhea, would always come first... even if she wasn't entirely sure whether or not those longing looks Seteth was giving her would ever be compelling enough to sway her one way or another someday. Regardless, Shamir interlaced her fingers through Warin's, taking comfort from the strong, warm grip, the familiar calluses and scars, and everything else she had memorized in the past several moons. She took a deep breath, feeling heat cresting high in her cheeks as she summoned the words she had been mulling over ever since she had found Seteth in his office to announce her intentions a fortnight ago, "My "place" has always been a question mark. From Dagda, Brigid, here, in Garreg Mach... I was content with that, before you. Now... I want to be able to do, and say things I hadn't thought of before. _You_ make me want to do and say things I hadn't thought I needed. And even though I see the logic of what you said, all those moons ago about vows and marriage, the war _is_ mostly over. We've one more thing to do. I'd rather not wait any longer than I have to. Call me greedy."

"Now it sounds as if you're the one proposing to me." Warin regretted the words the moment they left his lips as a sharp elbow drove immediately into his solar plexus to rob him of breath as soon as he spoke. She was cruel and merciless, and the red tips of her ears peeking through her dark violet hair was all the proof he needed to know he'd poked her a tad too often already. He deserved whatever punishment she deemed necessary, though he still couldn't quite help himself from teasing her. This was different, but not at all in a way he disliked, and he coughed even as he tried to stymie a chuckle in the same breath, "It's the truth!"

"This isn't easy, you know...!" Shamir's mutter was less sour that intended, but as Warin's arm squeezed her so damned sweetly about her middle, she had more trouble than she wanted to admit staying annoyed. They said so much without words more often than not. They had fought alongside each other so often, for so long, that it didn't seem like the words were necessary. Yet, Shamir knew better, because she knew him. The words were important, just as much as the actions were, because without them there was always that little fraction of room to misinterpret, and correct. She didn't want that space between them on this. Never on this. Her face was burning even if the warmth surrounding her was comforting, but for the life of her she could barely look up to meet his eyes as she spoke quietly, "If you want a proposal so badly, then here it is for you... I vow to stay with you through life's many hardships. I will stay by your side, as I want you to stay by mine. My life has been colourful, but it's always been something I chose for myself. To live wherever and however I pleased... Now, I'm making another choice. To stay with you, if you'd have me... For as long as life will let me."

Warin closed his eyes as he let her words wash over him like a wave, and he felt the sting of salt in his various wounds just as much as he felt the comfort of the grime and the wear and the fear being washed away. She was too good at giving him exactly what he needed, especially when he would never dare to ask for it, and he wondered at the luck that had landed him where he was sitting. It was unfathomable, in a way he did not want to dwell on. For a younger him, he would have laughed and dismissed the very idea that he needed anything outside of those he called his family. Now...? His arms wrapped tightly about her, squeezing her closer as he buried his face in her neck and whispered raggedly in return, "I'd give anything and everything to keep you by my side. And that terrifies the absolute wits out of me... but it's still the truth. I can't imagine a world without you in it. I won't. There's been too much loss. Too much mourning in my life... Happiness scares me. It seems too unobtainable most days... I held you at arm's length in a stupid attempt to lessen the sting of possibly losing you. It wouldn't have helped an ounce had something happened. I won't hold out a moment longer. There's absolutely no reason to. Marry me. Marry me, and let's keep the road under our feet until we're ready and willing to find a place to carve out as our own for the rest of our lives."

"You absolute _ass_..." The words were almost hissed, but it didn't matter as Shamir forcibly shrugged herself out of his grasp to turn around to confront him head-on. Her wine-coloured eyes were shining, her mouth pulled into something halfway between a scowl and a smirk, and Warin didn't fight her as she sat up on her knees and reached to grasp his face. He surrendered willingly as she yanked him forwards for a kiss, and he readjusted his hold on her in the same moment. She was so damned warm and soft, curling herself intimately about him as his lips parted for her hungry tongue, and when she finally had to draw back for lack of air, her entire face had turned a gorgeous shade of crimson.

To his disappointment, she didn't allow him to continue to look as she instead wrapped her arms about his shoulders and buried her face in them as she embraced him tightly. He had to stifle a chuckle at her last-ditch attempt to cling to her pride, but he didn't mind overmuch as he adjusted himself for her. He understood. His own face felt like it had been set aflame, but there was a much more comforting warmth settling itself deep in his stomach and over his body like a good, heavy blanket. For once in what felt like months, his mind had quit its racing, and he could hear his own thoughts clearly again. His heartbeat was no longer a constant, unending drumbeat, but rather was humming away quietly as he cradled her tenderly in his lap. It was that same sense of peace he had experienced their first night, before the icy grip of his trauma had made itself known with a vengeance.

This time, however, Warin could not feel even an ounce of it threatening to rear its head again as Shamir curled up pointedly into his chest. Instead there was only calm, with the faintest whisper of eager wonder that he only barely recognized. It was a strange feeling, as if he was seeing something new and miraculous and unexplainable for the first time, and he wondered how long it had been since he had experienced such a thing. His only memory of such wonder was the first time he had felt Raine's hand on his own, all those long years ago in a half-torn down inn when he, his father, and his sister had been on the run from the Church.

"I love you." The words came in a slow, quiet whisper into her ear, and Warin didn't try to hide his smile as his arms squeezed down. She was a constant reminder of the things he had forgotten in his youth, despite it all. Her harsh barbs, her stern refusal to let him wallow, her unending warmth when he was finally pulled out of the sand he had buried his head in... He deserved absolutely none of it, but his appreciation was boundless. He nuzzled against her, breathing in her scent with both hunger and relish, and his voice was a rough mutter as he felt her hands squeezing the forearms that were cradling her so tightly, "Should we go back to our dorm...? It seems we've something to celebrate."

Shamir smiled, still hiding her face in the crook of his neck as her blush both rose higher into the very tips of her ears, and shot down deep into her middle simultaneously. That was a promise she wanted to leap on, unspoken or no, but the comfort of her current position made it difficult to want to move to get there. She could feel the lack of tension in his every muscle, and his smile was curved into her ear as they sat in the shadow of the already darkened arena. They could leave freely without suspicion of what they had done there easily enough, and it wasn't as if the trek back to the barracks would be a long one, yet... Shamir lifted her head slightly, kissing his cheek as she went before her wine-coloured eyes fixed on his own as she answered him pertly, "Another minute."

Chuckling at her, Warin leaned back against the pillar that had been supporting him. She was curled up neatly between his legs, her clothes still rumpled but her eyes as sharp as ever. The amusement had curled her lips up into a catty smirk, and it took almost all of his self-control not to lean down to capture them with his own. He had little doubt if he did that they wouldn't make it past the arena's walls without being able to succumb to temptation, though a part of him wondered if it mattered. His knuckles brushed along her cheek, tracing the colour of her blush, and her low, pleased sigh as his fingers moved to comb through her hair only made him want her more. He couldn't quite help himself, allowing his fingertips to drift down across the contour of her spine, and he mused as she shivered instinctively and straightened, "Another minute and I may have to redress you again..."

"Keep your hands to yourself if it worries you that much." Shamir countered with a laugh of her own, but her eyes were glittering as she allowed his caresses to continue. It was slow and soothing, gentle and reassuring, and she was surprised by how much weight had been shed from her shoulders. It was strange how he managed to do that, to both create and discard weight she had never carried before, but she didn't much mind it. Rather, she had grown to enjoy it, him and his odd challenges, even if it frustrated her beyond words at times. Now, however, her own hand lifted as his rubbed her back, and she idly toyed with the empty silver chain he had never taken off, despite its trinket having long since left it. He followed her fingers, puzzled but not at all showing an inclination of drawing away, and this time she was the one to muse as she fingered the delicate chain-links, "I imagine you want to follow tradition, and exchange rings... I'm sorry that I don't have anything for you at the moment. I thought of it, but..."

Warin smiled wryly as her voice fell off in a tired sort of way, but he understood nonetheless. It didn't matter that the ring on her hand had found its home there... The words were still unsaid, after all, and in a way... that made it less real. All the moons of sharing a bed, the days of fighting side by side were not diminished just because words weren't exchanged, but it was so much easier to put up a veil, or hide behind a wall, because those words didn't bind them together in a traditional sense. He gently captured her hand, lifting her fingers to his mouth to kiss at them gently as he finished for her, "That made it real?"

Shamir made a noise of discontent, but the furrow on her brow proved he had hit the mark a little too accurately. She allowed him however to caress her hand, his thumb moving in slow circles against her palm as his lips feathered gently across her fingertips, and a soft shiver went over her despite herself. She hated that he was right, yet a part of her was glad that he so easily understood. It made things easier... Perhaps too easy, but she wouldn't permit him, or herself, to get away with it. She reached for his left hand, now taking the time to caress his empty ring finger before she admitted wearily, "That made it real. Now, though... I'd prefer if it was. Before the end of this, I'll have something for you, too... So long as that's what you want."

Warin bit the inside of his cheek, stifling a chuckle of both amusement and tired exasperation as he wondered at such a simple reassurance. What he wanted... Images flickered like bolts of lightning across a clear sky through his head, and each one seemed more wild and impossible than the next. It had been a lifetime, or perhaps longer, since he had even dared to consider such a thing as selfish as a "want". She knew that just as well as he did, but still she ceded to him. It was hard not to crush her to him in the tightest embrace his body could manage, to pull her closer and keep her to him as ferociously as he could.

It would be a little bit longer, he mused, until he had the courage to tell her honestly what it was he pictured when she told him he could have whatever it was he wanted. The images did not frighten him as much as the implication of it did, but he supposed that was simply the fear of the unknown creeping into his heart. He knew already he was his father's son. There was no question that he had always taken after Jeralt in almost every manner... but that did not mean he would be even half of the man his father had been in raising children. Still, the thought, of children with wine-coloured eyes and tousled navy hair made him smile, but that was a secret he would keep to himself for just a little while more... He had no proof he would be a good father. That he could provide properly as a husband... but he could hope... He could hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> This story kind of grabbed me, hit me over the head, and ran away with me slung over its shoulder. This really did not turn out to be the story I started writing, but to be fair, I don't exactly mind where it ended. Warin's been due for a little spotlight (and peace) and I really wanted to touch on his evolving relationship with Shamir... but it just wasn't meant to be THIS particular fic where that spotlight was meant to shine. Still, I'll admit, I enjoyed writing it. I enjoyed watching it evolve on its own. It was fun, and it's been awhile since I've had some real actual fun in writing.
> 
> These past few weeks haven't been kind to me. This whole month was actually quite rough. First there was super strict quarantine after coming back from the USA (Canada does NOT take this lightly, I've experienced firsthand!), and shortly after quarantine, I hurt myself and ended up in the ER for most of the day... This put me back into quarantine because of the exposure, and I was also put on some pretty heavy-duty medication which didn't exactly like me, or me it. I tweaked something in my back, so I've spent the last two weeks hobbling around and being incapable of even rolling over in bed. Writing has pretty much halted, seeing as I couldn't sit up, but I've been on the mend. Of course, this won't really line up with my writing, seeing as I always try to have a chapter finished in advance for uploading... X'D
> 
> Regardless! I'm working, as well as I possibly can. I'm trying to enjoy myself, and get back on track with a lot of things that have gotten messed up in the past month and a half. We'll see how well that goes. I don't have much more of an AN to write, seeing as this story kind of went it's own way, and I'm pretty spent, even just writing this small bit as it is. So, as usual, I'll wish you guys your best health, as well as a hope for a review and a thank-you for reading this far. You guys keep me going, and I do really love your feedback and the knowledge that you're enjoying yourself as much as I am enjoying myself! So have a good one until I see you next!
> 
> Mood: Bemused.
> 
> Listening To: "Heaven Knows" - Five for Fighting
> 
> ~ Sky


	31. Coming Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Rating: War, Mystery, History. (T)
> 
> Characters: Ignatz, Flayn, Raphael, Raine, Dimitri, Warin, Seteth, Claude.
> 
> Summary: It wasn't meant to be like this. The war was meant to be over... and yet, what was it that he was seeing from astride his mount, hidden in the forest as the village ahead burnt down to the ground in front of him? He did not know this army, did not know the flag they carried, even if the Brand that was emblazoned upon it was indeed familiar to him. They were not soldiers of the Empire that they had been fighting for the past several years. Nor were they the Agarthans that the rebellion had warned him and the Alliance of. No, they were something else entirely, something more terrifying, more brutal, more bloodthirsty... and his blood froze in his veins as he checked his horse, turning due east for the fortress of Garreg Mach. He had to warn them, before these strangers crashed upon them like a wave of flame and death, and hopefully put an end to it before more innocents were slain.

**Horsebow Moon**

**Garreg Mach (Infirmary)**

**Early Morning**

For the first time in what felt like hours, Flayn allowed herself to take a long, deep, relieving breath as she finally withdrew her hands from the prone woman laying at her knees in the infirmary cot. Her clothes and armour had long since been stripped away for healing, but now that her wounds had been bandaged, she was now wearing a hastily borrowed pair of undergarments and a sheer nightgown. Her belongings would be washed and returned to her promptly after they were repaired, but Flayn doubted the pink-haired axe-woman would be capable of bearing her armour anytime soon. The wounds she had taken were grievous, and when she had been brought into the marketplace at the brink of dawn atop Ignatz' stallion, there had been a momentary fear that they had arrived too late.

It was not so, but that was only a stroke of luck that Dorothea had postponed her leave for the Empire by another two weeks, and had been up early to help her favourite merchants prepare their stands for the returning civilians in the lower villages. Dorothea had leapt immediately into action when Ignatz had breached the gates, begging and yelling for help for the woman who was slumped over in his arms, and her quick-thinking and superb skills had stabilized Hilda enough to have her moved to the infirmary for the intensive treatment her wounds required.

She was a mess of them, and Flayn had been forced to swallow down bile when her newest patient had all but been dumped in front of her. An arrow had been sticking out of her mid-section, but there were lacerations, bruises, and burns covering almost everywhere else. Her armour had saved her from deeper blows, the long gashes and deep dents in the thick metal bodice she wore were proof that she had been saved only by an expert smith's ingenuity and craftsmanship. It had been a heavenly few weeks since she had been forced to treat such wounds, as the fighting about the monastery had come to almost a complete halt once the hostilities in Enbarr were over, but her body did not forget even if her mind wished to.

So she had toiled, pushing all thoughts of worry and weariness out of her mind so she could focus solely on healing. Hilda had responded well to her magic, proving that even in the worst condition that her will to live was spectacular, and Flayn wondered if it was due to the fact that her lover had gone to such lengths to get her to Garreg Mach in the first place. Both of them had looked terrible, and though she had only caught the barest glimpse of the green-garbed Golden Deer, she could tell he had spent the last twenty-four hours riding through nothing short of hell. His clothes were soiled with mud, blood, and dirt, and he had been wounded as well. Hilda, however, had proved more unfortunate in her luck against her opponents, and Ignatz had ridden without pause or delay for them to save her life... His speed had likely saved her just as much as Dorothea's did, and Flayn intended to tell him so when she had a chance to leave her workplace.

For the moment, however, she was far too drained to even move from the seat she had slumped down into. Her reserves of magic were almost empty, and the exhaustion she currently was experiencing was deeper than she could ever remember it being. She had been attending to Rhea almost daily since her return to the monastery, as the other healers who had been summoned to attend to her had proved almost useless in restoring her power. In her years of torture, Rhea had turned to her own innate powers to keep herself alive, and had drained much of her own reserves. Human magic, no matter how well supplemented, simply was not enough for one of the most ancient of her kind, and Flayn had pushed herself nearly to the limits to aid her kin in her recovery.

Only Raphael's stern warning had pulled her back from pouring out all she had to give, and she was glad of it as she looked down at the calm face of the sleeping woman beside her. Had she not heeded his advice two days earlier, when she had nearly collapsed on the stairwell while walking down with him to the mess hall, she would have been completely incapable of aiding Hilda now. Raphael had been gentle in his scolding, knowing full well her devotion to her family was not something to ever be punished for, but she needed to be as attentive to her own needs as much as their own if she wished to be of any use to them. He had carried her back to her quarters, not permitting an argument, and had spent the evening dining with her there instead, ensuring she would rest, and reminding her with that sweet, sweet smile of his that he was not angry with her, and one single moment of well-placed frustration would never rob her of his love.

Another sigh left her as her cold hands rubbed at her shoulders, trying to ease out tension and return warmth back to her body simultaneously. She could not keep those outside waiting forever in a panic, but her body was sluggish, and her mind even moreso. She had caught hurried words, snippets of conversations that she knew boded terribly ill, but those, too, she had pushed from her mind in an effort to hone her focus. Now, the voices outside were filtering in through the door, muffled as they were, and her head turned tiredly in its direction as she wondered morbidly what had come to their doorstep now? The wounds on her former schoolmates were too terrible to be anything but a sign of a fierce and deadly battle, but she could not imagine how such a thing could have taken place in Alliance territory. The last she had heard was that Lorenz had successfully locked down the borders, sweeping away the remnants of the Imperial army that had refused to surrender with their emperor's death, and that reconstruction was finally beginning in numerous cities and villages.

This, however... This spoke of war anew, and it made Flayn tremble with trepidation. The Agarthans were not wholly defeated... and House Goneril and their own scouts had yet to return with information of the hideout that Claude had discovered from Hubert's letter. They had not been estimated to return for another fortnight, but now with Hilda and Ignatz' arrival, everyone had begun to murmur and worry... She guessed that the concern for privacy was pushed aside due to the urgency of the situation, as there were a multitude of voices speaking outside rather than having moved to the war room, and among them she could hear Raphael's gruff baritone urging for calm. She supposed Ignatz was still there, refusing to be budged, but she supposed she could not blame him... She only hoped someone had attended to _his_ wounds while she had been occupied, and that there would not be a mess of blood all over the floor for poor Cyril to likely clean later.

Flayn reached out, carefully pressing her palm to Hilda's forehead to check her temperature one last time, and she pulled back as she was satisfied by the familiar heat. No fever meant no infection, and that had been her biggest fear when she had seen how absolutely filthy the poor woman had been on top of her injuries. She would likely be just fine so long as she was attended to properly, and Flayn was gladdened by the thought. She had seen far too many familiar faces pass by in the infirmary, and too many had found their final rest in her care from their wounds. But to save one life made up for all the grief and pain of the lives that were simply too far gone for her skills, and with a little grunt, she pushed herself to her feet and began the slow walk back to the doors.

Her feet felt unsteady, and she was dimly aware of a strange pitching in the corners of her vision with each step she took. It was like the infirmary itself was dancing to her rhythm, and the thought did no favours to her empty stomach. It swirled viciously and somehow pounded in her temples, and she reminded herself tiredly that she really did need to heed Raphael's advice more often, no matter how much she disliked having a regular sleep schedule. A few nightmares here and there certainly had to be more preferable to this constant exhaustion and nausea, shouldn't they?

The door felt heavy as she pushed it open, heavier than usual, and as it swung outwards she wondered why the sound of the voices that had been growing louder suddenly became muted and faraway. It was as if they all were suddenly speaking from the other end of a tunnel, and her vision doubled abruptly as her legs pitched her sideways without warning. Those voices continued to speak, hurried and startled, and she felt herself being swung up off the floor with such little effort that a part of her wanted to giggle. She was carried back from where she came from with as much effort as lifting a book, and she heard herself being laid down gently in a nearby cot. She made no efforts to get up, feeling her dizziness weighing down her limbs, and the strong hand that touched her forehead was only all the more enticing to remain where she was.

Distantly, Raphael's voice filtered through the strange tunnel where all her hearing was coming through, and she could faintly hear him reassuring others that she was simply exhausted and not at all ill as she apparently looked. She wished she could grasp his hand and squeeze it appreciatively, but she didn't have the strength to do so, and could only sigh and close her eyes underneath the warmth of his callused fingers resting on her head. He was touching her gently, reassuringly, and she heard rather than felt herself murmuring as the voices continued about her in a worried little din, "Hilda will be... just fine with some... rest... as will I, I think..."

"It's all right, Flayn. You rest as much as you like. You've done more than enough." Raine's gentle voice joined Raphael's, and Flayn faintly smiled at the idea of her professor kindly reassuring her for a job well done. Strong hands pulled the sheets up, bundling her carefully in the warm material, and a heavy weight made the thin cot squeak as she felt someone sitting down next to her as she was laid out properly. The last thing she remembered was Raine chuckling softly and a warm hand fondly ruffling her hair, and she decided that when she woke, she would take all of them to task for treating her like a child... but only after she woke.

"I think I'm gonna ask her to be excused from her infirmary duties for awhile, if that's okay, Professor." Raphael sighed as he watched Flayn falling into a deep sleep almost immediately after being swaddled tightly in blankets, and he glanced up just in time to see Raine nodding in firm agreement. Her brow was furrowed, proving her concern was genuine and deep, and it heartened him to see that his worry was shared, and that Raine would back him up without hesitation in ensuring that Flayn was kept in bed for awhile. He stroked her hair again, fondly brushing back her sweat-slicked bangs from her forehead, and he shook his head as he mumbled, "She needs rest, even if she doesn't like admitting it... I wish Marianne hadn't left so soon, so she wouldn't be so busy."

"That's more than fine by me, Raphael. Professor Manuela will be here shortly to finish what she started. Give her my express permission to do what she has to to keep Flayn here." Raine dismissed the apologetic look Raphael gave her with a shake of her head, and she bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling at his completely unashamed show of concern for the much smaller girl beside him. He was a strange one, someone completely settled in his own skin, but Raine mused that was likely why she respected him as much as she did. No one else had ever once shown such inner peace in her all time here in Garreg Mach, and she had come to learn just as much as she had taught her student since he had joined the Blue Lions all that time ago. "I trust you don't mind holding things down here until she arrives? The war council has been called, and everyone is rushing. I can't afford to linger, as much as I'd like to."

"That's okay, Professor. Everyone's gotta do what they're good at. I can hold down the fort here until Professor Manuela comes. Just make sure that Ignatz gets sent here, too, for me?" Raphael replied with an easy nod, though he watched as Raine glanced over her shoulder to the hall where Ignatz had almost been wrestled away so his own wounds could be attended to. He had been so frantic that more than one of them had considered knocking him out for his own safety, but Raphael had managed to turn him into Lysithea's stern hands, and he had not been seen or heard from since. He was lucky, his own injuries were paltry compared to Hilda, but he would need rest, and he would only find it in the infirmary. "I think he'll feel more comfortable being with Hilda, even if he can't do much to help. Just being near is good enough sometimes."

"I'll send word as soon as I can. Thank you, Raphael." Raine nodded before turning on her heel, and though she wished she could stay, both to soothe her students and inspect Hilda herself, she knew there simply was no time for such things. The entirety of the monastery had been thrown into an uproar, with bits and pieces of the earlier incident now making its way through the halls. No one was entirely sure what was happening, but the feeling of impending doom had crashed onto everyone like the weight of a coming storm. She had barely been able to control herself in the midst of the chaos, snapping out sharp orders to bring Seteth, Claude, Warin and Dimitri to the war room the moment they could be found, and she was only glad that her students had been calm and ready to take orders even when others showed panic and fear.

The last two hours had passed in a bloody, intangible blur, but Raine was beginning to feel a sharper hold on herself returning with the knowledge that Hilda would be well. It had frightened her out of her wits, seeing Dorothea and Flayn all but dragging an unconscious Hilda up the stairs for the infirmary, and she had done her part in the move before stepping aside to let the healers do their work. Dorothea had spent most of her own energy stabilizing Hilda, and needed to rest, but Flayn had leapt into action without skipping a beat. It had left her with Ignatz, and she had been glad that Raphael had arrived right on Flayn's heels to try and talk sense into his best friend. It hadn't gone well at first, as the poor young man had been beset with panic and worry, but with Raphael's calm and her own assertions that Hilda was well out of danger, somehow they had managed to get him to check in on his own injuries before the adrenaline faded and he collapsed right in the hall.

Now, however, with Ignatz' journal clutched in hand... Raine had to turn her focus away from them as she marched her way towards the war room. She was sure that the men she needed had been summoned and were awaiting her, and she wondered what they had gathered already, or if they had only heard the fearful whispers and were heeding nothing until she arrived. It mattered little either way, she supposed, as her hand tightened down on the bloody spine of the book she was holding. What she had seen scrawled on the parchment would rock the entirety of the monastery... No rumours would compare to the truth. Not this time.

The war room was quiet as she opened the door, and she glanced about to take in the faces of the men who had assembled at the table. Leonie was an unexpected addition, sitting at Claude's left side, but her face was pale and she was chewing at her lower lip, and Raine was well aware she likely had forced herself in due to her concern at her classmates' conditions. If anyone was permitted to claim a right to be there, Raine supposed Leonie could make it, and she would not begrudge her for it as she quickly assessed the expressions of the remaining members with a cold, calculating glare.

Claude was coiled tightly in his seat, his hands curled into tight fists, and his lips were pursed into the deepest scowl she had ever seen him wear. Though his friendship with Hilda had become extremely tenuous, it was clear that the news of her arrival and her injuries had shaken him. Leonie was sitting close to him, her own expression a mirror of his, but there was a glitter of anger sparkling deep in Claude's eyes that Raine did not recognize. It wasn't a self-righteous sort of look, as she had come to see him wear more and more frequently. Rather it was darker, turned inwards, and Raine's fingers tightened unconsciously on her burden as she recognized it after a moment more of examination.

Guilt. The wyvern rider was in the thralls of guilt. He was uncharacteristically silent, but his expression and body language spoke for him all the same. After all, who had he abandoned in Derdriu to their own devices, while he remained in Garreg Mach in pursuit of the truth? She recognized that look, that wrathful, guilt-ridden, and self-loathing look that twisted his features and made his eyes glint like twin flames as easily as she could read any book in the library... Even if Hilda had abandoned him, he had not cut his ties quite as cleanly as he wanted to look, and his concern, and his anger, were almost palpable.

In opposition to Claude sat Warin, who was sitting at the end of the table with his arms crossed and eyes closed. For all the world he looked like he could have been asleep, but Raine knew better. He was blocking out the world around him and retreating to his thoughts, mulling over everything he had seen, heard, and experienced ever since the call had gone up for an emergency. He was not one to be swayed by small talk or gossip, and it was clear he wanted all of the facts in hand before he would even begin to try and engage. He was closed off, both to the room and to the world, but Raine was glad for his steadiness. She would need it greatly when the talks began, and she already was aware he would be one of the two she would be relying on most once she put her precious burden on the table.

Seteth sat on Warin's right, and unlike Claude and Warin, he looked up immediately when the doors opened. He almost made to rise to his feet, but he stopped himself halfway through and forced himself back into his seat with great effort. His brow was deeply furrowed, and his own hands were likewise clasped into fists on the top of the table. He was not a healer, and he had been forced to step aside when Flayn had pushed her way through the crowd to attend to the wounded duo, and it was clear his thoughts were focussed solely on his daughter. If anyone but Raphael was aware of just how harshly she was pushing herself of late it was Seteth, and Raine understood his concerns well enough.

Dimitri sat waiting by the head of the table, at what would be her right side, and for a moment, she paused before she instinctively took a step to join him there. Unlike anyone else in the room, his expression was calm, and his one good eye was clear as he exchanged a glance with her. He was waiting, waiting for an order, for a sign to follow her lead, and in the midst of the maelstrom, seeing such composure was welcome. He did not stir, only watched, and she wished she could thank him for it right then and there. However, she had to lock her emotions behind a vault for now, and she could spare him a nod before she stood at the opposite end of the table where she normally would sit.

She couldn't take a chair, not with what she had in hand, and as all eyes finally turned to her... She took in a deep, steeling breath as her stomach continued to do somersaults. What Ignatz had told her, what he had written down, almost seemed like lunacy. Yet, she could not, and would not dismiss it as she had seen others do as they tried to calm him from his panicked exclamations. He had all but shoved his journal into her chest, demanding she see for herself what he had witnessed and drew down, and she had obeyed his order once Lysithea had pulled him away. What she had seen inside had frozen her blood... and almost made her smile with bitter mirth. Now, her face was a mask of stone, and she set the book carefully on the table before she began quietly, "Forget whatever gossip you heard on your way here... You know as well as I do that most of it is nonsense. Ignatz and Hilda will recover, given more time and care. Flayn will need to be taken off rotation from any sort of healing duties for at least a week, but I'll leave the decision of timing to Professor Manuela. In the meantime... We've something very serious to discuss. The news those two arrived with isn't news we were prepared to hear."

"Did the Agarthans do this? Are they declaring open war?"

"No. The scouts Holst sent to the mountains only found rubble. Whatever base there was hiding in there is gone. There was a token force trying to move it, to see if there was still an entrance to be found, but considering the fact that it resembles what is now Fort Merceus, I doubt they'd find much." Raine answered Seteth's question calmly, though she was not surprised to hear confused and wondering murmurs. Only Warin looked to her with interest, his eyes narrowed and dark in thought, and she nodded to him before continuing once silence once more fell, "Warin confirmed that the wounds he gave to Thales were fatal. I know my brother, and I believe him. Thales is dead, and the Agarthan stronghold collapsed with him. That, however, isn't a cause to celebrate. That force I mentioned, that had been trying to dig out an entrance... All of them were slaughtered, exactly seven days ago... Not a single one of them ever returned to House Goneril territory."

"Holst personally trains his own men, and each and every one he'd have sent into the Agarthan territory would have been capable of besting any of their lingering remnants." Claude shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he looked up to meet Raine's flat gaze with sharp intent. Though he had cut his ties, his memory was still sharp, and to hear that every single man Holst would have sent into dangerous territory had ended up dead only made his body tense with fear. He had always been wary of House Goneril's military strength, of Holst's power, and he knew he had been right to. To hear that some force had laid waste to his men... He shook his head and spoke through his teeth, "Whoever attacked their men weren't Agarthans, were they? If their base is collapsed, that means that their forces are either dead or scattered. So who attacked them?"

"That question I can't definitively answer. Holst was set to investigate it personally after there was no return word, but something more pressing diverted his attention. A nearby village, directly south of the mountain, was set aflame. Holst had to turn aside to see what had happened... He and his men barely survived the encounter." Raine answered with a slow, tired shake of her head, and she wondered at the words Ignatz had spoken to her in the rush of adrenaline, pain, and fright. In any other circumstance, she might have dismissed him simply because of the state he was in... but he had provided her with irrefutable proof, and she had to take that in stride. She opened the journal, turning to the pages that Ignatz had thrust at her in the hallway before she lifted it to the show the others seated before her, "In the village was a force of roughly thirty or so men... Bearing this flag as they burnt everything to the ground, and killed everyone in their path."

"The... Crest of Flames? They were bearing a standard of the Crest of Flames?" Dimitri's eye narrowed as he looked closely to the journal, but the page had been completely dedicated to the Crest, and there was no mistaking it. Ignatz' attention to detail was immaculate, and he had drawn the whole standard as if he had was capable of picking it from his very memory and presenting it as it was on the page. His brow furrowed as he heard Warin shifting forward, likewise taking a closer look at the scrawls on the parchment, and he shook his head as he questioned, "What force has ever used the Crest of Flames as their symbol...? Were they splinters of the Imperial troops? Co-opting Edelgard's secondary Crest in an effort to rally support? Or Agarthans set out for revenge for the murder of Thales?"

"Neither. At least, not according to what Ignatz saw. There are a few Agarthans among their number, but not nearly enough to be anything more than stragglers from the mountain. And from what Ignatz reports, they aren't the ones leading. That would be this man." Raine replied with another shake of her head, and she turned the pages before stopping on a quick, but still relatively detailed sketch of a heavily scarred man with dark eyes, and a thick, white/grey beard. He wore no armour, save for massive shoulder guards that likewise bore the Crest of Flames, but his great stature alone seemed to mock the idea of a chest-plate. Even from the parchment there was a radiation of calm, gigantic strength in those bulging muscles, but it was the eyes, the cold, empty and red-tinged eyes that seemed to draw the most attention in his scarred face.

There was a clatter as Seteth abruptly shot to his feet, and most eyes in the room turned to look at him in alarm and surprise. Only Raine was watching him with a measured, and blank expression, and Seteth faintly was aware that she had been awaiting his reaction in particular. She had held up that journal to show the room what Ignatz had seen, but it was his response that she had been waiting for, and not the response of anyone else sitting at the table. His skin was cold and clammy, and his chest suddenly felt as if it had been tightened in a vice, but he fought back the instinctive fear as he held tightly to what he had seen so many, many long years ago, "No... No, that cannot be correct. He is dead. Long, long dead. I saw that creature's corpse myself that day. He cannot be alive. He cannot be alive! How is it that he walks again all this time later?! It is impossible!"

"I was hoping _you_ could tell me that, Seteth." Raine's reply was smooth, but there was a cold, bitter undercurrent as she understood that all Ignatz had told her was the truth. She had been desperate to call him a liar, to call him mad, but Seteth's reaction proved he had been right. No one else in the monastery, save for Rhea, could have given her the evidence she needed to know that the man Ignatz had seen, and had barely escaped from, was exactly the man that had been worshipped as a hero for long centuries, despite the truth that had been so cleverly buried by the Nabateans. It made her ill to think of just what else was being hidden, what was being done, but she swallowed that down for another time as she questioned him bluntly, flatly, "Clearly, his death didn't take. Have the Agarthans mastered the magic of turning the dead into the living, Seteth? Have they the ability to make the once dead King of Liberation alive again?"

"No. There is no such magic. Even the Goddess herself could not turn back the hands of time to resurrect the dead. What is lost must remain lost. That is... the law of the world." Seteth felt himself repeating words he had spoken so many times that they had been engrained into his very spirit, and yet somehow those crimson eyes flickered back from the pages as if to mock him. He was abruptly very glad that Rhea was bedridden, that she did not see what he was seeing, as he could only imagine how such a thing would shock her into madness. It had nearly undid him, and he had not been the one working for so long, with such passion and desperation... He shook his head, fighting the instinctive surging of panic as he met Raine's cruel seafoam-coloured stare and reaffirmed himself, "The dead cannot come back to life. The Nabateans do not possess such skills. The Goddess herself could only create anew, not return what was originally gone... The Agarthans cannot have brought Nemesis back from the dead... If he indeed walks again, it is as a corpse, not as the man he once was in days long gone. A twisted facsimile of what he used to be... To frighten and make a world unknown of his true nature submit to him, and to his former masters."

"Nemesis? _That_ is Nemesis?" Claude likewise stood, reaching for the journal, and Raine handed it over willingly enough. His eyes narrowed as he stared down at the unfamiliar visage, but he knew Ignatz' talent. Whatever the bespectacled man had seen was exactly what he had drawn on the page, and he shook his head slowly as h fought back an appreciative whistle. Even in the midst of panic, in the midst of an escape, Ignatz had had the wherewithal and the time to make sure to take down all of the pertinent details that his friends would need when he returned to Garreg Mach. He let out a long breath as those crimson eyes glared back at him from the page, and he slowly pushed the book back to the table's middle as he muttered, "I never had a better scout than Ignatz... He was never wrong in all our time fighting together. Not even on the smallest details... How in the seven hells is this possible? How did he know?"

"He took a gamble getting close enough to the wreckage to overhear the group speaking. Though, from what he said, there wasn't much speaking done. The Agarthans are not in charge, even though their numbers are greater than Nemesis' inner circle. Ignatz counted eleven soldiers, with Nemesis included. It seems that the legends are returning to walk the earth again... Or at least, puppets of them are." Raine answered in that same calm voice that she did not whatsoever feel. Seteth's violent reaction had shaken her, had made her take pause, but she forced it down violently as she glanced about the room to take in the narrowed eyes, surprised expressions, and unsure looks that all were staring back at her. She raised a hand, quelling any speech as she admitted, "I'd have called it madness myself if I hadn't seen this book. Ignatz is and was overwhelmed and panicked, and taking what he said with a grain of salt is usually how I would have handled this... but he came with proof, and that proof came with a hefty cost. I won't do him or Hilda a disservice and dismiss this out of hand."

"As good as that is, that leaves questions to be answered. The dead cannot come back to life. How is it that Nemesis and the Ten Elites are back in the flesh, causing havoc, in this era?" Warin pointed out with a tilt of his head, and Raine shrugged her shoulders in a clear sign that she didn't know the answer any better than he did. It was small comfort, but he turned his eyes to Seteth, who was still staring down at the page as if a ghost had appeared in front of him. He snapped his fingers, and the loud noise made the much older man twitch before he slowly looked up to meet Warin's flat stare before he addressed him none too gently, "You are one of the Nabateans. You fought that battle, all those years ago. You saw his corpse personally. So how is this possible, if the dead don't come back to life?"

"There has been... many attempts at resurrection throughout the centuries. To bring the dead back to life is the ultimate goal of many mages and alchemists. It has never once been truly successful. Barring the moral qualms of such an act... It is against the will of the law of nature. Time only flows forward for those who have a mortal form... It cannot be reversed." Seteth felt the words dripping like acid from his tongue, and he physically recoiled from it as he remembered those numerous talks, those countless conversations and arguments that had left him stung, battered, and eventually completely beaten. His brothers had fled the madness, had fled humanity, but he had stayed... and he had abetted the crimes he now condemned. Had he only kept his bravery from his youth, rather than allowing his age to beat him into submission. Still, he continued slowly, "Necromancy is a dark craft, one that the Church of Seiros has suppressed, but this seems beyond even that. If that picture is accurate, which Claude claims it is, then that corpse has been carefully... _perfectly_... preserved. In all of my encounters with the blasphemy of puppeteering corpses, none have defied the natural cycle of decomposition. This is magic beyond my knowledge, but not magic I have not seen. Simply... elevated. The implications of such a thing... I dare not imagine."

"Hubert mentioned an unfathomable devilry that the Agarthans had ready for us, in our last clash. Something that we couldn't ever hope to defeat. He may well have been speaking of this. If true, then he was right, in a sense. The dead walking the continent will ruin the Church. Ingenious, really... Even after death, Thales is still struggling for a victory." Warin mused with a detached calm, and though he felt the harsh stares on him, he didn't mind the judgement. It was all true. He continued on thoughtfully, ignoring the holes being bored into him by the glares of others, "If we assume then that these creatures _are_ being moved by magic, it means that they are still ruled by the laws of nature. They can be killed again. As problematic as it seems, the solution is simple enough. We bury the King of Liberation and his Ten Elites, just as you and yours did, once upon a time."

"Geez, Warin... Is it truly that simple for you?" Leonie spoke first, unable to help herself as she saw the startled gazes of the others at the table at Warin's carefree words. It truly seemed like nothing could shake him, like nothing could even surprise him, and she wasn't sure if that surprised or scared _her_ more. She had always known that Jeralt's eldest child was more than deserving of his title as "lieutenant", and yet this was something else. The legends and myths of their oldest histories were being resurrected, to put horror and death to those now in the present, but Warin saw them only as mere opponents to slay, as every other soldier put in front of him had been. "Legends are walking again. The history we learned from birth is being unravelled, and you aren't shaken a whit. Doesn't any of this scare you at all?"

"Fright equals death in our occupation... and truthfully, none of this scares me. None of this surprises me, either, for that matter." Warin's answer was almost blasé, but there was a cold sort of ferocity, of certainty, that turned the dark navy of his eyes into chips of ice. His voice remained clam and placid, but there was no denying the confidence that dripped from his every word. He did not know any kind of fear of battle, or of death. It had been beaten out of him as a child, and his life thereafter had only further numbed him from the horrors of a life of blood, steel, and death. He was not just a mercenary in trade, but a mercenary in soul, and it showed as he continued flatly, factually, "Anything that bleeds can also die. Be that humans, Demonic Beasts, dragons, or even the raised dead. If it can die, that means I have a fighting chance of winning. That's all I need to know. That's all I care about. History is written by the winners, therefore none of it can be trusted. But put a foe in front of me, and then I am the one writing history. I can be content with that."

"Those are brave words, Warin... but they are also foolish. I was there that day, when the war was won... The cost we paid to find victory was high. The corpses that were buried, foe and friend alike, were uncountable. To this day, all these centuries later, it is still enough to put the chill of fear into me." Seteth shook his head slowly, folding his hands tightly to disguise the slight tremble that had begun to shake its way through his body. How many nightmares had he woke from, since those bloody days? How many nights had he comforted his daughter, who had nearly spent all she had to give, from the nightmares and the guilt of those she could not save? Too many. Simply too many. "Nemesis, and those who followed him, those who stood in the shadows to guide him... are not to be taken lightly. Even moreso if it is true that the Ten Elites of old have been resurrected alongside him."

"This really is history repeating itself, then... Thales struck heavily at old wounds with this scheme of his." Raine mused with a low sigh, and she flipped the page from Nemesis' visage to instead one that was full of hastily jotted down notes. Blood had splattered these pages, smudging the ink and the parchment, and it was clear that in the midst of his writing that he had been ambushed, but Ignatz had not allowed for it to stop him. He had been committed to putting everything to words for those who would need them, and she quoted his speech now with quiet, bitter mirth, "'The one they call Nemesis speaks of Seiros, and his revenge upon her. He carries a blade, much alike the one that the Professor carries. It is black, with two Crest Stones that I cannot see, but it seems to be a mirror image of the Sword of the Creator. Upon closer inspection, the other ten soldiers likewise are carrying weapons similar to the Relics of old. Are they new magical works of the Agarthans? I must return to Garreg Mach to warn our friends.' Even the Relics have been recreated for this theatre. Amyr was a weapon twisted into the shape of a Relic akin to the kind that the Ten Elites bore, and passed down their bloodlines. It seems they want a re-enactment of that final battle. They'll have what they want."

Seteth closed his eyes, drinking in the tone of her voice, as well as the calm certainty of her words. She sounded too much like her father, like his mother, and it made every inch of him twinge with pain and longing. Was she even aware of how much she had changed, how deeply, or was she simply finally at peace with herself? It was difficult for him to guess, and he would not dare to ask, but he supposed in the end it did not matter. She was going to put herself to the task ahead of her as she always had done, because she did not know of any other way to live. He took in a breath, beginning slowly, purposefully, as he lifted his gaze to meet her own, "Professor... Raine. You do not know the whole truth of the Relics... or of Nemesis, or of Seiros. If you wish to truly ride out to meet Nemesis... then there is much you need to learn. To do so now, without understanding the truth, would surely mean your death."

"Then tell me what you think I must know. But I warn you, nothing that you say will sway me from my current course. Regardless of the "truth" there are several facts already at hand that cannot be dismissed." Raine took the response in stride, knowing full well that the secrets that were still being kept from her were only being offered to be divulged because of the seriousness of the situation. There was no other way that Seteth would dare to breach the unspoken trust and silence between himself and the other Nabateans unless there was great need. Still, she admittedly wondered just how much it mattered when the reality of the situation was as grave as it was.

Raine lifted a finger for each of the facts she was listing, and she stood tall and proud, stubborn and almost defiant as she watched Seteth, and the others, watching her for her lead. She could feel the weight again placing itself firmly on her shoulders, but she refused to buckle. There was no time for self-indulgence, for petty worries and concerns. Not yet. She would address them in time, when she had no audience and others to consult with, and so she spoke in a brisk but cold tone as she listed the problems that currently were facing the lot of them,"Firstly, Nemesis is walking again, alongside his comrades of old. Second, they are bearing strange but powerful weapons, and have already killed too many to ignore. Third, we're rather effectively cut off from any sort of reinforcements arriving at our call. Anyone we can reach out to is simply too far away to answer us, and will not arrive in time to offer aid, even if they did receive a summons... and that's putting aside the fact that those we sent away in the first place weren't capable of fighting any longer. Our options are slim. We either bring the fight to them, with what numbers we have at our disposal, or we admit defeat here and now."

"Teach has a solid point. Holst escaped with his life, and he likely sent messengers to Lorenz already, but he drew his men back for reconstruction. He'd have to recall them, re-arm them, and then send them out here, and we simply don't have the time to wait for that." Claude brought a hand to his chin, glaring down at the map that was still spread across the war table as the calculations of movement and speed ran through his head at lightning speed. Travel across the Alliance was smoother than Faerghus or Andrestia, but the massive territory, as well as the splitting of the lords, meant that the very idea of reinforcements arriving to their aid was laughable. He spoke slowly, pointing to each area on the map as he did so to both help himself keep his thoughts in order as well as give his audience the cues they needed to follow along with him, "They appeared at the northern most edge of House Goneril's territory, slew the search party, and then moved forward to assault the local village here... Ignatz then found them gathered here, encamping for a short while, before he was caught... Accounting for their small size, they'll be within marching distance of the monastery by the end of the moon."

"We have no time to prepare. The men in Faerghus will not even likely receive the missive of their need by the time this force arrives upon our doorsteps... and those who were sent back to the Kingdom were those unable to fight, regardless." Dimitri agreed sombrely, though he admitted there was a small part of him that rankled at the thought. Had he only allowed Rodrigue to remain, had he only obliged his father's old friend for a few more weeks... but it was too late for that, and he knew his choice had been the right one. Rodrigue, more than any of their allies, had spent the most in terms of men and coin to aid the rebellion. He had exhausted himself and his territory. He, more than anyone, had earned his right to go home. "There is simply no time. I agree with Raine. There is only one recourse, and that is to meet them where they are, and bury them before they can wreak more havoc. We have faced worse odds. We came out victorious. I have no reason to believe we will not prevail again."

Seteth was silent, both somehow admiring their youthful confidence, and despairing at it. They had won the war with the Empire, but that had only been a precursor to what they were facing now. He had seen it firsthand, all those years ago... They could not imagine. Their war had lasted little over six years. His had been for almost a hundred. He shook his head slowly, reminding himself that it was not arrogance, it was pragmatism, and yet he could not find the hope, or the belief, that was spurring them on. They only saw the path forward, and were not permitting any other thoughts of a different turn. He did not understand where they found such strength of will... but, of course, they were still so young... Still so untouched by the horrors of the centuries that had driven his brothers mad, and left him alone.

"Spill your secrets, Seteth. That look on your face is enough to make me want to reach over this table and throttle you. You know full well we have limited options. It isn't as if we want to be marching off into another battle, and putting more lives on the line."

Warin's rough remark snapped Seteth back to attention, and he gritted his teeth as he fought an instinctive bite back in response. Warin was no longer wearing that casual mask, and his eyes had once again turned into dagger points. He had crossed his arms over his chest, unconsciously flexing those strong muscles that bore those deadly gauntlets he never removed, even the on monastery grounds, and Seteth matched his glare tit for tat. He forced his voice to be level, straining for control as he admitted somewhat painfully, "The secrets you demand... are not solely mine to share. You already are aware of the fact that I am a Nabatean. One of the few that remain... and now, you are also aware that the War of Heroes was something I experienced firsthand. Yet, you must also understand that in those days, I did not lead... Though it was my family, my people, who were slaughtered, I still did not spear the charge, even in my youth. I was led... and the one who led me, the one who brought the scattered remnants of our people together and waged war on our oppressors, is the one who should be divulging this information to you. Much of what happened after was not my doing, and even at times, against my counsel. But who was I to argue with them?"

"So, Rhea really _is_ Seiros... I'm somehow not surprised, and yet somehow I'm _still_ irritated with you." Raine muttered under her breath, and even the startled look that Seteth gave her did nothing to ease her unrest, or her anger. Leonie looked as if someone had just jolted her with a spell, while Claude blinked his eyes, but Warin and Dimitri did not react whatsoever. They, of course, had already led themselves to such a theory not long after Flayn had announced her lineage, but they had known better than to push at the time. Rhea was unwell, and clearly in no position to give them the aid they needed. Seteth, however, was not, and Raine was no longer interested in hanging onto the small vestiges of mercy she still was capable of summoning.

"I wonder why _I_ am somehow surprised... You have an uncanny knack of knowing things you should not. Yet, perhaps, that is my own fault... It is a logical conclusion to reach, after all you have learned in the past moon." Seteth remarked with a low chuckle, but there was no mirth in the sound. Rather, there was simply exhaustion. His eyes flicked to the doorway, following an invisible path that would take him to the bedroom where she was still laying in slumber, her face pinched with pain and her skin pale and clammy... and he let out a long, slow breath before looking back up at Raine. "Yes... For a time, Rhea abandoned her name, and wandered the world as Seiros. It was as Seiros that she summoned an army, brought together the few ragged remnants of her family, and waged war against Nemesis. When all was said and done, "Seiros" was no longer needed, and history, for the betterment of humanity, was rewritten according to her will. The horrors of the war... Of the massacre, and the creation of the Relics... How could she permit that knowledge to remain? It would only put herself, and her kin, at risk, if it were to be known. We were all that remained of the children of the Progenitor God... and that risk follows us, still, today. After all, the Empire now chose to use her, just as the Agarthans of the past used Sothis, to create tools of war."

"What?! They did _what_ to Sothis?!"

"... Not only to Sothis, Raine. But to my entire people." Seteth felt her outrage deep in his bones, and some dark, twisted part of him was glad to see the wrath in her eyes as she looked to him. It was proof, more proof upon proof, that what Rhea had attempted had not entirely failed, and yet it was also something more painful to admit. There _was_ a connection between the woman who stood before him and the woman he could only picture faintly in his mind's eye after so many long and painful years, and to hear that hurt had been put upon her ignited the same anger, the same wrath, that it had in him and his kin when he had been told of it all, too. His eyes however drifted to Warin, and he remarked tiredly, almost wanly, "If your enemy can bleed, they can also be killed... Is that what you said? There is truth in that statement... But there is a much, much darker truth to it than you can ever imagine. The Nabateans are not human, but we are mortal... We bleed, and we die, in time... but humanity feared us for what we were. Different than they, with powers they could not comprehend, as we were sprung from the Goddess herself... How else were they to kill those they feared, if not by using our own powers against us? Our blood, our bones, to make weapons of war that would slay the monsters they feared, and give them power beyond their wildest reckoning, and our own understanding?"

"Wait, wait, wait! Slow down a second here!" Claude's voice rose before anyone else could react, and he stood up, hands resting on the table as he leaned forward helplessly in Seteth's direction. His eyes were wide, shining with both surprise and revulsion all at once, and he shook his head, disbelieving, even as the logic of Seteth's words wormed their way deep into his brain. There was no lie in what he said, but in his meaning... Claude could see the veil falling away, the curtains parting, and it shocked him deep to his bones as he began again, voice almost tremulous in his realization, "Are you saying... Do you truly mean that... The Crest system... The Relics... They all spawned from the genocide of the Nabateans? They killed the Goddess, and used her blood, her _bones_ , to slay the rest of your kind? That's how this entire system began? That's the truth behind everything?"

"Ironic, is it not? The system that Edelgard so railed against was not, in fact, a system created by these so-called "false gods", but rather by humans... Humans like her own ancestor, who happily accepted Rhea's favour, if it meant the safety of his people, and newly formed homeland. The sheer arrogance of that child, who ignored the truth of the Empire's founding, of Wilhelm's involvement, to find enemies in a world that would not exist had the Nabateans not turned to humanity for aid." Seteth chuckled wryly, but the words were dark, and his smile was cold and cruel. He had nearly torn the manifesto into shreds then and there when he had found and read it for the first time, feeling a rage he had not known for many a year blooming in his chest, before he had managed to get himself back under control. "Those who had drank of the blood of the Nabateans gained the use of what was eventually called Crests, whether through force, or trickery, or the gift of Seiros... and those who had participated in the slaughter used the bones of the dead to create the Relics that you now all wield. Torn from the corpses of those who would make corpses their weapons... She knew nothing, in the end. Less than nothing."

Dimitri felt his hand pulling back almost instinctively from Areadbhar at such words, and he watched as Claude likewise glanced sidelong at Failnaught, hanging so innocuously across the back of his chair as if his weapon was something completely strange to him. Even Raine had loosened her grip on her blade for a moment, before a black look crossed her face and her hand grasped down all the harder on the hilt of the sword. Her knuckles whitened in testament to the strength in her grip, and he wondered painfully just how much she was trying to process, and how much it had to be hurting her to do so. He knew her attachment to the blade. To know that it had come from a corpse, a corpse of someone she had held dear to her, too...

Even Leonie and Warin looked perturbed, and the two had no Relics to their names. Their eyes drifted of their own accord to the trio of weapons in the room, studying them with new eyes, but Warin's expression was careful, calculating, while Leonie was staring in outright horror. There was a black silence that filled the room as the weapons that had carried them to victory now were examined with new, disgusted eyes, and there could be no blame as the knowledge sunk in like a stone in water. All of their work, all of their desperation, cleaved with the bones of innocent victims of a genocide that had taken place long before their time. Was their victory worth the price that had been paid to have such weapons in their hands?

"Enough. What's done is done. We can't change where the Relics came from, or how the Crest system began. Those aren't our sins to bear." Raine's voice coldly cut through the tension, and her hand was heavy on the hilt of the Sword of the Creator even as she spoke. A cold current of rage was washing through her veins, making her wish she was on the field to exert every last ounce of her strength to dispel it, but that would have to wait. She turned to Seteth, her expression a mask of calculating neutrality, and she continued as he looked to her with a calm she knew he was not feeling, "I will assume there are still more details you've yet to tell us of the War of Heroes, but I doubt any of it really concerns the problem at hand. While I'm grateful you've shared your history, it only really tells us that Nemesis will stop at nothing to gain Garreg Mach, and another chance at Rhea. We all can agree that cannot happen. Our plan remains the same... Unless you still wish to argue we shouldn't take to the field?"

"No. I know that your path is the wisest one to take... My only plea would be that news of this endeavour not be shared with Rhea until the last possible moment. If she were to know that Nemesis is once again in search of her... I do not wish to imagine the havoc it would wreak on her fragile body and mind." Seteth answered slowly, and he folded his hands tightly in front of him as he imagined the sheer look of panic that would cross her face if she was to know all that had been shared inside of the war room. Too much, he knew she would say, but it was growing more and more difficult for him to justify the secrecy. Soon, all would be in the light, whether she wished it or no, and he was painfully aware that she was coming to terms with that truth, too. Her painfully slow recovery was proof of it. She did not wish to heal. She did not wish to face the consequences of her actions... and he could not entirely blame her. "She is healing, but slowly... and I do not see her recovery hastening. She is one of the oldest of us... One of the most powerful. But even she has reached her limits. There is only so much human magic can do for her. Time is the only cure for our kin... Time, and deep, long sleep. A kind of which she has not taken in many a century."

Claude's eyes narrowed, watching the way Seteth's gaze flickered over to Raine meaningfully. For the professor's part, her back straightened and her eyes narrowed in stern rebuke, but she said nothing despite the bait that had been laid out so cleanly before them. It made him wonder just what Seteth was hinting at, if he was calling her disappearance a sleep that his kin needed to refresh themselves, but it was obvious that Raine did not agree with such an assumption. She had been clear, icy and sharp in her belief that her disappearance had been no such thing as a "sleep", and Claude knew better than to question her. Seteth however was still holding back, still safeguarding Rhea's secrets, at least those that were between her and the Eisner family, but it made him curious despite himself. He was reeling with knowledge, reeling with realization, but still he was hungry for more as he questioned, "Your kind sleep for years on end? Are you saying Rhea may need decades of rest before she is fully recovered from her ordeal?"

"It may be possible. I truthfully cannot tell. She was always different from my other siblings. Stronger, even if she was the youngest of us four." Seteth admitted with a slow, tired, shrug of his shoulders. He wished he could answer them honestly, but the idea was well beyond him. She was not like them. She never truly had been, even if they all shared the blood of the Progenitor God flowing through their veins. Her temper, her ferocity, her devotion and her strength... It had always been different, and even after so many years, when his brothers had abandoned humanity, and their former shells of their human forms... Rhea had remained as she was, seemingly untouched, while even he and Flayn had grown weary and lost. "After the war, the injuries Flayn had taken... The amount of power she spent, healing her allies... She had no choice but to choose a long sleep, lest she risk death for all she had done. We hid away, her and I, not long after, and slept for many a year. When we awoke, the world was changed... as were we. Our powers had healed us in our sleep, but in exchange, we lost our true forms. A price had to be paid, I believe. Yet, Rhea is not like us. She, still, is capable of transforming, as you all witnessed in the siege."

"So that picture... You've been hiding away the truth of the Nabateans, of the Immaculate One, for centuries, then?" Claude's eyes remained fixed on Seteth, feeling that familiar bristling on the back of his neck as the much older man watched him without a flicker of guilt crossing his expression. He seemed calm and composed, though there was an ancient sort of pain darkening his eyes, which Claude admitted he almost felt for. Years upon years of hiding, of covering the truth and protecting his child after such a ferocious war would steel anyone's resolve. "Hiding and pretending to be something you're not, and pulling strings from the shadows to ensure you're never found out... In a way, the princess wasn't entirely wrong about you all, was she? Even Saint Seiros wasn't who she appeared to be. Her mantra about false gods wasn't that far off the mark."

"It was not a matter of control... It was a matter of survival. Something I believe you can understand more than you wish to appear." Seteth's answer came coolly, though his eyes flashed with a warning glint that made Claude wonder just how much truth there actually was to the idea of his "true form" being long gone from him. There was that same sort of calm confidence, that strong ferocity, that he had seen in wyverns, that he had seen in the so-called Immaculate One, when she had taken to the field in Garreg Mach so long ago. They were creatures of legend and fable, horrifying to witness and even moreso to fight against, and he did not wish to put his bow against Seteth's lance. Seteth continued as he sensed Claude's faltering will, his voice calculatingly cold, "When your back, the backs of your kin, are put to a wall with no sign of escape, or mercy... The things one will do to survive become immaterial. Thievery, falsehoods, even the taking of others' lives... There can be no quarter given if you wish to live. For a supposed outsider, you are quick to deal out judgement... You do not know of how the Nabateans suffered. You can only imagine."

"That's-"

"Claude. Don't argue with him. He's right." Leonie spoke quietly but gently, and she reached to carefully place her hand on his arm as she watched him tense in anger. She could understand, after hearing his many stories of his childhood, and she ached with sympathy for him... but if what Seteth had said was true, and she believed it was, she couldn't permit Claude to continue to needle at him so cruelly. It simply wasn't fair. Claude's eyes flickered to her, annoyed, but she held his stare fearlessly before explaining herself calmly, "It was a genocide, Claude. An entire people were slaughtered... And what was done to them after... It's unspeakable. I'll agree that what happened after, the lies and the Crest system, and the Relics, none of that was _right_ , either, but... In a way, we owe them for how things are now, just as much as we should condemn them for it. Human history should be for humans to shape... but we aren't the only ones living in Fódlan. They aren't false gods. They're as mortal as we are. And every mortal is capable of screwing up. It's on us to change things now. All of us. And so long as they're willing to help with that... We shouldn't be at each other's throats over the state of the world."

Dimitri cleared his throat, bringing all eyes to him as he watched the others at the table with his one narrowed eye. His expression was almost neutral even though his gaze was as sharp as a blade, and he looked over at each person who had come to attend this meeting with careful scrutiny. Claude's intensity was so hot that it was almost burning, while Leonie's soft compassion was reaching out into the fire to soothe him. Seteth was composed, but Dimitri knew it to be a facade. Inside there was a roaring in him, something primal and pained and furious, and he understood full well why he hid it rather than permitting it to show. Then there was Warin, cold and unemotional, refusing to allow any of what had been said to impact him even on a superficial level.

Raine was the only one who refused to make eye-contact, as she had been ever since the truth had been revealed in the small, closed-off room. Her hand was on the hilt her blade, still white-knuckled and tense, and her jaw was set in a dark, fierce frown. Her eyes were distant, already on the battlefield and far away from where she was standing, and he wished he was capable of giving her the comfort she needed. He knew what it was she wanted, but still it was being kept from her reaching hands no matter how desperately she craved the resolution. He forced himself to once again address the table, straightening his spine as he spoke quietly, factually, "I thank you, Seteth, for shedding light on the things we did not know... but as Raine said, it unfortunately does not change the path before us. If anything, now knowing who Nemesis was, and how the world changed because of the genocide of your people... Putting a stop to him here and now, before he can reach Garreg Mach, is our only course of action. We will assemble what men we have left, and by the moon's end, we will march out to meet him and those who follow him. Are we all in agreement?"

The answering replies of affirmation came slowly but surely, and Dimitri was relieved to hear them even if the expressions that accompanied them were less than eager. He understood the reservations. Their men's morale was low, they were tired, and they were few. Too few, perhaps, for what was ahead... but that did not matter. They had faced worse odds before, and had triumphed. This time would be no different. His expression was fierce, and he laid his hands flat on the table as he stood up to command the attention of everyone in the room when he spoke, "There will be no defeat after we have come this far. Together, we _will_ prevail. Nemesis and the Ten Elites were defeated once before. They shall be defeated once again. We have the strength and the will to do so against these puppets of the Agarthans. They are not myth and legend as they once were. And even if they are... We, ourselves, have done enough to earn our names in the annals of history right alongside them in this war. Let us end it, once and for all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> This one also wasn't the fic I intended to write, yet as I finish it up, I find myself relatively happy with it. It was supposed to be more Ignatz/Hilda centric, but as I dove deeper, I understood it couldn't be that way with all the news and the history that was going to eventually be revealed. This really wasn't meant to be an info-dump of a chapter, though is became that way as it progressed. Mostly because I refuse to believe Seteth would ever allow the students and Byleth go into the upcoming battle blind. Mind you, all that he shared likely wouldn't have been shared without pressure, hence Warin and Raine all but threatening him for it, but he said what he felt was permissible in the current moment.
> 
> Seteth is rather difficult for me to write for. Both him and Rhea are. I really do feel for the Nabateans, as much as I lay a lot of blame at their feet for the current state of the world. But the world they lived in, all those centuries ago, was a lot harsher, and a lot more fearsome than the world as it is now. For the Nabateans, being hunted, being made into weapons, being the ones indirectly responsible for the murder of their own kin, and then slaying those responsible in a giant war (and manhunt) afterwards... It's hard to imagine what kind of mental toll that took on the characters, even though we do see glimpses into it, every so often.
> 
> Indech and Macuil straight up abandoned humanity, while Seteth and Flayn had little choice but to sleep off their wounds. For a long time, Rhea was alone, balancing a new weight on her head that she probably wasn't happy to be bearing. Of course, does that excuse her actions, and the manipulation of history? Or her delving into the more darker aspects of her actions? I don't believe so, but there is a good argument to be had that these poor bastards have been through the wringer, and are definitely not the people they probably used to be once upon a time. But, this is also the present, and their actions have impacted many, and they need to be taken to task for it. Balancing those things is pretty difficult, but also fun, in it's own way.
> 
> I've been sore, since winter has been up and down since the weather started to change. I wish that the temperature would just pick a goddamn place to stay, rather than bouncing between two sets of ten degrees. It's killing my body slowly from the inside. And my back is still quite sensitive, so I feel rather crippled and slow these days. But I have not forgotten this story, and intend to finish it! So, as always, thank you for reading, and should you feel the need, please drop me a review. I love your feedback! Everyone have a great time, and please stay safe and healthy!
> 
> Mood: Focussed.
> 
> Listening To: "She Talks To Angels" - Black Crowes
> 
> ~ Sky


	32. Pride of the Blue Lions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genres/Rating: Family, Friendship, History, Truth, Romance. (T)
> 
> Characters: Raine, Dimitri, Felix, Ashe, Petra, Ingrid, Mercedes, Sylvain, Dedue, Annette.
> 
> Summary: It was meant to be a simple war meeting, another out of so many as they prepared themselves once again for the battle ahead, but she had underestimated her students. They were not as patient, or as unaware, as she had wanted them to look. It didn't seem to matter to them that they would soon clash swords with former legends. If anything, such a thought didn't even seem to cross their minds. What troubled them more was her, her and her family, and she sat in her chair, stunned silent and unsure as eleven sets of eyes pierced her through and demanded answers she was not sure she could give them.

**Horsebow Moon**

**Garreg Mach (War Room)**

**Afternoon**

"All right... If that's everything, then I believe we can adjourn today..." Raine arched her aching back slightly as she glanced over at her notes, shuffling the papers into one clean pile as she listened to the rest of her class mumbling and muttering amongst themselves at her mention of dissolving the meeting. It had been shorter than normal, due to the fact that much more attention as needed to training rather than weekly meetings of politics and discussion of tactics, but she had come to accept her new normal rather quickly. The preparation for what was to take place at the end of the moon demanded all of their attention. They could dwell on what would come after when their swords, axes, lances, and bows could finally be put down. Peace would be a war all of its own, but all of them understood the need to put everything aside for what was to come next.

It had been a hectic week, taking her students aside to speak to them of the truth that Seteth had revealed to her and her generals a few days prior, but she hadn't seen a reason to keep any of it a secret from them. They were to march with her, after all, and any information she had was information they needed in order to both make an informed choice in joining her, and knowing what to expect in the battle to come. It had rocked all of her class, as she had known it would, and she had addressed each of their concerns as patiently and gently as she possibly could. It was not easy. There had been righteous anger, sadness, and disbelief, for all of the lies and the twisting of histories, but they were not emotions she would dismiss out of hand. It did not matter how much good was being done with their Crests or their Relics... The history of what had shaped them, what had created them, made all the difference in how they viewed their weapons _and_ themselves, and it was right of them to have questions, concerns, and demands of her, even if she didn't have all the answers they wanted.

Still, she did not think her decision was wrong. It didn't matter how fiercely Seteth had pressed for secrecy, as she had no illusions that such a dark history could ever truly remain a secret. Besides, Claude and Leonie already were aware, and she would be damned if she allowed _them_ to know, and purposefully kept her own students in the dark in tandem. It was unthinkable, and with Dimitri's agreement, she had shared everything she had been told without hesitation, or much mincing of words. She had to, if she wanted their support, and wanted them to be able to move forward with their own lives in a way that they could be proud of in the future. Of course, it had been rough and difficult to do, with many resisting such knowledge solely out of horror, but she did not blame them for that, either. Hadn't her own reaction been much the same?

Her hand thoughtlessly moved of its own accord to the hilt that pressed into her side, and reflexively her fingers drew back before it could make contact. Her body rejected the act that had once brought her comfort, and her stomach twisted with indignant fury that was growing harder and harder to quench. The sword that had become a part of her, that had saved her life, and the lives of those she loved so many times over... was merely a physical part of that young-looking girl who had shared her body, shared her soul with her, in what had been a different lifetime. Even the mere idea of wielding it made her feel sick, but the ice-cold pragmatism in her brain warned her not to dwell. She had one more battle to wage to close the war, and using Sothis' remains to slaughter the man responsible for her death had a poetic irony to it that even she could appreciate... even if she didn't want to imagine what the poor Goddess would ever think of such a horrendous end.

Despite her initial hesitancy, her fingers reached, and brushed with careful reverence against the cracked, empty hilt that had so many times felt like the warmth of an old friend's hand. It didn't matter that hole for the Crest Stone was empty. The sword knew her as well as she knew it, and it had become almost an extra limb in all of her time wielding it. Her body needed to know it was there, needed to find comfort in its cool, familiar touch, even though her mind winced away from it all the same. Dark, unwilling thoughts flickered through her head, laughing mockingly at her inability to find peace between the two newly warring halves of herself, and she heard herself whispering inwardly and with great pain, 'How connected were we, in the end? To the point where I'm now wielding your very bones...? Desecrating you even further every time I draw to battle... Even if I know I have no choice, even if I know that without your power I'd be useless on the battlefield, it still makes me sick to think that this is how we've ended up. What else do I have to take from you, before all of this is over? Was your power, your godhood, your soul not enough...? We should have traded places... The world needed you more than me, then. It still does.'

A sudden slam made her jump in her seat, and all eyes immediately went to the doorway where the sound had originated from. Felix was standing there, back to the lot of them, but his hand was heavy on the wood to prove he had been the one to slam the doors shut again before he had made his exit. He turned around slowly, and his face was a cold mask, his eyes glinting in a dark sort of wrath as they glanced about at the startled faces of his comrades who had either yet to leave their seats, or had been in the process of getting up. Each one was looking at him with some degree of concern, or even fear, but he ignored them all as he turned his gaze on his professor, who, as always, was sitting at the head of the table. She hadn't made a single move to leave, as usual, and he had known she would wait until all of them had left before she would even dream of following. It was simply her way, to wait on them, to ensure not even one of them had anything for her address before she would consider her own needs and wants, and the sight of her surprised seafoam-green eyes staring up at him pricked his temper all the further.

Turning sharply on his heel, Felix approached the table and pointedly pounded his hands firmly on the end to once again draw even closer attention to him. Most of the women in the room flinched or jumped at the action, but he ignored them all as Raine merely continued to watch him placidly, and his voice was a growl, impatient and irritated and furious all at once when he finally broke the thick tension by repeating her words mockingly, "If that's everything...? How long are you going to continue to pretend up there, Professor? No matter what's thrown at you, you don't even blink, and I'll admit we've appreciated that coldness since it's kept everyone in this room alive up until now... but still, you're going to sit there, and keep pretending, even when we're _this close_? You've given no orders. No instructions. Not even a damned hint of what our next move is to be. I don't care if everyone else is too afraid to ask you directly, as I'm not. What are you planning in that head of yours, and why aren't you telling us anything about it yet?!"

Raine blinked several times, unsure of how to even respond to such an unexpected tirade, but she was even more surprised when she saw Dimitri rapidly push himself to his feet as if he had been expecting this outburst for some time. His expression was ferocious, anger and wrath all rolled into a fearsome scowl she had not seen ever since they had left Enbarr, and the sight of it made her flinch back almost automatically from him. It was clear that something had passed between the two considering his immediate reaction, and as he swept out a hand, his voice commanding and sharp, it was only further proof when he began fiercely, "Felix, you are out of line! This is not the time or place to do this!"

"Be quiet, Boar! She's _your_ woman, isn't she?! Out of everyone sitting here, you're the one who should be the angriest of all of us, and yet you keep preaching that we wait, that we listen, but there's been nothing to listen to! Nothing but building tension, and unasked and unanswered questions!" Felix's answer was a sharp as a whip, and Raine almost spluttered as she looked up at Dimitri to see his reaction. His jaw clenched and his hands gripped down into fists at his sides, yet he did not speak, and Felix almost scoffed at him when it was clear that he had no answer for his claims. He waved a hand, gesturing broadly to all who sat in the room, and he snarled at his future king as his silence spoke for him, "I want answers! Everyone here wants answers! Are we marching to war against the Church of Seiros, or not? I won't go back to Faerghus until I know. I won't leave Garreg Mach under the control of that woman, or her abetting kin, until I know exactly where it is _she_ stands on it!"

For a moment, Raine wasn't entirely sure how to react to such a wild claim. She could feel all of the eyes on the room piercing her to her seat, but she could only return Felix's hot glare with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. It was obvious enough that it was something that had been bubbling underneath the surface for longer than she had guessed, but for an eruption to look like this of all things... She shook her head slowly, trying to pick her words carefully when she finally broke the tense silence, "War on the Church of Seiros...? Are you mad? What in the seven hells gave you the assumption that I intend to topple the church? If you think I'm anything like Edelgard, I'm frankly quite insulted, Felix. I've no love for what they've done, nor for how they've twisted history to their advantage, but I've no desire whatsoever to go to _war_ over it. Why would you ever assume I'd want to?"

"Felix spoke too fast, Professor. It isn't about the Church of Seiros. It's about the Archbishop." Annette was the first to answer, quickly breaking in over Felix before he could continue his tirade, and she shot him a warning look before he could even begin to try and interrupt. Her eyes were sharp despite her kind and understanding voice, and he could only stand to look at her for a handful of seconds before he looked away with a flexing of his jaw. She understood his anger well, and she knew his heart was in the right place even if his words were not, and so she spoke for him as Raine looked to her now questioningly, "We're well aware that you've no intention to follow in Edelgard's footsteps... That you don't wish to change the status quo under such violent means. That isn't what Felix meant. Rather... He wants to know what it is that you intend to do with the Archbishop, once all of the fighting comes to an end. And to be perfectly honest... I think everyone in the room wants to know it, too. You've said nothing since she returned... but we all can feel the tension. We all know that something is on the horizon... but we can't guess what that something is, unless you tell us. We can't offer you help if we do not know what it is you intend to do."

"What I... intend to do...?"

"Professor, please don't play dumb. We're all more than aware that Rhea has done things to you, and to your family, that she hasn't paid for. We may not know the exact details, but we aren't blind. Ever since the beginning of things, Rhea has been holding your strings, so to speak... and while you played along, it wasn't what you wanted." It was Ingrid's turn to speak, interrupting her professor before she could begin to form excuses, and her eyes were hard and flinty as she stood up from her seat to give due gravity to the words she was speaking. The tension in the room felt unbearable, and yet there was a certain freedom flowing through her now as all the whispers, all the side-eyeing and rumours were put aside to frankly address the truth no one had before had the courage to look in the eye. "Rhea is responsible for the things that have happened to you and your family, isn't she? Beyond everything else, and that isn't something we intend to put aside, either... But she _has_ committed crimes against you, too, hasn't she? And you intend to take some sort of action for it, don't you?"

A quick, scathing glance at Dimitri was all that was needed for Raine to assess that he had said nothing, as she had sworn him to do, but still he was looking away with a taut jaw and guilt written clearly all over his face. He hadn't betrayed a word of what she told him, but even he hadn't managed to keep his fellow classmates from snooping, or from putting together the puzzle pieces on their own. Rather, she could guess he had worked hard at forcing their silence, trying to urge them to give her privacy and space, but it seemed they were not willing to listen to him any longer.

At first there was a wave of anger, but Raine found that she was unable to keep it raging as she looked from face to face of the assembled students before her. Some were looking away in shame and guilt, but others held her stare with righteous indignance, and those were the stares at pierced her through. Their anger was pure, but none of it was at all directed at her. Rather, it had been born _for_ her, and the distinction was enough to quench her own and make her feel cold, tired, and surprisingly vulnerable. It was different, though she wasn't entirely sure how, when it was so many of them versus when it had simply been her brother, or Dimitri.

"Why... are you so concerned over this?" The words left her in a tired sigh, and she felt herself slumping back in her seat without much of a thought as she slowly shook her head in wonder. Felix's outburst had startled her, and yet also it had exasperated her. Felix's anger was nothing surprising, as he always had to be angry at _something_ , but the conclusion he had reached in that rage still seemed so ridiculous that she wasn't entirely sure what to think about it. An entire other war, a war against the Church of Seiros no less, and he had spoken of it as if it was simply a matter of course. She couldn't even stomach the idea of another battle, let alone the idea of a second war, but from Felix's passion, and from the looks on of the faces of her students... They didn't seem nearly as bothered as she was. "Haven't you all had enough of fighting? Aren't you all looking forward to going home? There's only one last battle left before we can declare it all over, at least with any real certainty, and yet... You'd still give more...? For _my_ sake, of all things?"

"Of course we would, Professor. And I think that you're not quite understanding our point, here. It isn't simply "for your sake" that we would continue to fight... It's simply how things should be for us. Or, at the very least, it is for me." Ashe's voice was quiet, but surprisingly gentle as he answered when no one else would, and his usually so keen eyes were shockingly soft as he stepped around his seat and approached the still-sitting professor who had pulled him along with her so kindly without ever once showing annoyance, exasperation, or irritation for his lack of knowledge, skill, or his less than savoury past. His chest ached to hear her speak to lowly of herself, to hear her clearly fail to understand why she was so important to them, and he would not permit such a thing to linger as he continued in that same kindly voice, "I won't dare speak for anyone else here, as that isn't my place, but... Professor, when I was scared, when I was lost... You were the one to tell me that no matter the foe you'd have to face to keep me safe, you would fight them for me because I was your student. Even if it was the Church of Seiros itself. I know, perhaps, you were only speaking hypothetically, to reassure me, but when you said those words... I still believed them. I really, truly believed that if push came to shove, if it meant protecting me, you would raise your blade to the Church, to the Archbishop, for my sake. If I wasn't willing to return the favour, after all this time... I may as well abandon my dream of being a knight, and return to the streets where I came from. I am only here today because you made me that promise, and made me believe that if you thought I was worth fighting such a battle, then I wasn't without merit."

"Ashe... I said those things because you were my student, and I was your professor. It was my duty to protect you, because you were under my wing. Things have changed since those days. And even then, I... I was only doing what I thought was right of me to do." Raine shook her head, pushing away the kindness even as it curled its way around her still heart in a desperate attempt to give it warmth that it could not feel. It made her twinge with guilt, with shame, to hear him speak so sweetly of an oath she had given merely out of obligation. She was not the woman he, or any of her students, believed her to be. "I was made into your professor against my will. Had I had a choice in the matter, I would have never taught any of you. I would have left the monastery with my family, without ever once considering any of you at all. When I realized that I was stuck here and there were no options left to me, I only did what I thought was right of me to do. It was an obligation, not a kindness. Everything I have ever done for you, for all of you, was out of obligation for my newfound duties. You're thinking me much kinder than I am."

"You can lie to yourself all you want, Professor, but we know different. It may have _started_ as an obligation, but it certainly didn't stay that way for long." Sylvain remarked with an idle flick of his wrist, and though his tone was flippant, his eyes were serious as they bored holes into the woman he was addressing. He glanced around the room, taking in the approving nods and knowing looks, and it brought a lopsided smile to his face as he shrugged his shoulders before gesturing towards Ingrid with his thumb, "Obligation only extends so far... You weren't _obligated_ to help Ingrid and Dorothea out when you discovered one of her suitors wasn't as good a man as he was pretending to be. You weren't _obligated_ to help Dedue when he heard that the remnants of his people were staging an uprising against the Kingdom's mistreatment. Hell, you weren't _obligated_ to help me when I was being an arse to you, but you did it anyway, because that's just who you are, Professor. You help because you _can_ , not because you _must_. We see that distinction well enough, and we want to pay you back for it. It's that simple."

"Y-You're presuming too much-"

"Professor." This time it was Mercedes who interjected, and her normally so sweet and kind voice was stern, though admittedly also somewhat huskier than usual. The lattice of bruises that decorated her throat had faded well, only showing up as a faint blush of plum from where they had once burnt in a bright black, but her voice was still rough from the damage that had been inflicted on her by her brother. It took her obvious effort to speak, but speak she did all the same as Raine fell silent, unable to talk over her when she knew the trouble her student was going through in order to put her thoughts to speech, "This is one fight that you will never be able to win. Not only are you outnumbered, but you are also simply wrong. You can argue all you wish with us, and that much we'll allow you, but you won't change our minds no matter what it is that you say. Even if you shout, scream, cry... Even should you insult us, or yourself... It won't matter. We have not come this far together, as students and as comrades, to falter now. All of us have made up our minds, for one reason or another. We won't be swayed. We cannot be swayed. Even you must realize that much, even if you won't agree with us, don't you?"

"Mercedes is right, Professor. You know she is. We're probably the most stubborn class that Garreg Mach has ever seen. You taught us how to be stubborn, after all." Annette agreed with a nod, and she took her place at Mercedes' shoulder and laid a comforting hand on it as she did so. Her friend offered her a small, affectionate smile, sheepishly touching her throat as she understood that Annette was taking up the gauntlet in order to spare her more discomfort, and Annette gladly continued with a fierce glint to her eye, "It really doesn't matter what you say at this point. Not about us, or about yourself. We don't care about the details of how you came to be our professor, or why you taught us as you did. That doesn't matter. What does matter, what we do care about, is what happens to you after this war is over. We all have our endings we've been hurrying towards... Endings that you helped us find, or guided us towards when we said that was the future we wanted. Now, it's your turn. And we want to help you. No matter what form that takes. If it meant waging another war... I think everyone in this room would do it. And I can speak for Raphael and Flayn when I tell you that they'd agree, if they were here right now."

"I think we all can speak for Flayn on that... After what happened a few days ago, there's no doubt where she would fall on this particular issue." Ingrid agreed with a bittersweet smile, and her chest throbbed with pain as she thought of the lost, forlorn look that their healer had worn when she had explained her secrets to them personally, begging for their forgiveness for her secrecy even though no one in the room had even considered being angry with her. Once she had explained it all herself, laying everything from her true name to her current circumstances bare to their scrutiny, no one had doubted her sincerity. Raphael had been forced to practically keep her upright when her tears had started, and they had all recoiled in shock when she announced herself a traitor to them, to their professor, and told them of her wishes to repent by any and all means possible.

No one had dared to ask for the details, as none of them could even begin to imagine how or when Flayn could have committed any kind of treachery to their class or their professor, but Flayn had refused to allow them to say such things. She had insisted on her guilt, on her desire to do right by those she had wronged, and on that at least, they had been able to give her comfort. If she wanted their support, she would have it, and have it without question. No one would hold her responsible for the life she had been forced to live as a Nabatean, underneath the frightened guidance of her father, and of Rhea. What mattered to them was her actions in the present, not the past, and she had always been a friend to them. The tearful smile she had worn when she had been told as such had softened even the hardest of them, and Ingrid was glad that Raine had not seen such a thing, if only because she could imagine it would have made her even more discomforted than she was now.

Still... The importance of it, the emotions and the meaning did not escape the knight at all, and she refused to permit it to be swept underneath the rug. The tension in the room was still thick, and she could see Felix was still slightly trembling with wrath, and a desperate need to do something with it. His first reaction was always action rather than thought, and even if they did all agree with him on principle, there was still the matter of respect to be had. It gentled her voice, and she tilted her head slightly as she spoke again comfortingly, almost pleadingly, "Professor, you need to understand that none of us would be here today without you... and for some of us, that means more than we can put into words. Action is much easier for some of us than others, which is why Felix is so eager to claim he'd wage a war for you. We all would, and gladly, if it came to that. Of course, on the other hand, if that isn't what you want, we will respect that, too. Just don't ask us to sit idly by, is all. To pretend that... nothing is wrong, and that nothing should be done about what happened to you, or your family. You would never accept that for us."

Raine shook her head, feeling her temples throbbing as her emotions swirled in an ugly vortex deep somewhere in her stomach. Her fingers felt cold, and her limbs felt oddly detached from her body. She was leaning hard on her chair for support, worrying that if she didn't that she would immediately slide lifeless and unfeeling right to the floor. Dimitri was painfully still and silent on her left, watching the verbal melee with one drawn eye, but she could barely pay much attention to him as a dark sort of fit made her chuckle ruefully, "You lot are lucky that my brother isn't here for this farce... He'd rip you all to shreds for daring to assume that our family affairs are any of your business."

"It _is_ our business. Why is it that such a simple concept can't seem to make it through your head?" Felix returned sharply, and his lips curled into a scowl as he imagined his professor's elder brother storming at all of them for their thoughts. It wasn't as if the man's hatred of the Church, of Rhea, was any secret to any of them. They knew full well that at the end of things, he intended to take his hatred all the way to the top of the institution that had ruined his family, and he hadn't kept that a secret from anyone, either. There was a damned good reason that Rhea was hiding in her quarters, and that even Seteth was doing everything in his power to avoid crossing paths with the dark-eyed mercenary. They feared him for his wrath... and Felix knew that they were right to. "I won't pretend to understand what it was exactly that was done to you, or to your parents, but I'm not blind enough or fool enough to not know where to place the blame for it. Your brother at the very least has made his intents clear. He wants to go after Rhea, when it's safe enough for him to do so. You're going to go with him. But yet you think it's not our business to know that, or not get involved? That's just hypocrisy. You can't be sticking your nose in our lives, making decisions and rummaging about for us whenever you want, and think we don't have the same rights."

"I must disagree with that point."

Dedue's voice speaking up from the back of the room brought any thoughts of further conversation to an abrupt halt, and all eyes turned to the tall man with a fair mixture of surprise and uncertainty. He was standing off to the side, isolated from the other students who had begun to crowd the table, and his expression was placid even as he took in the reactions of his peers. He raised a hand calmly as Felix rounded on him, interrupting him from starting an argument, and he crossed his arms behind his back before turning his eyes to Raine instead. His posture was immaculate, a soldier standing firmly at attention, and his voice remained calm and clear as he addressed her and her only, "If I may speak frankly, Professor...?"

"You don't need my permission to speak frankly, Dedue... As evidenced." Raine almost allowed herself a chuckle as she gestured vaguely at the gathered students who had ripped apart her boundaries and stormed in without clearly giving her a second thought. She was almost glad to see Annette and Ingrid wincing, looking ashamed of themselves, but she did appreciate Dedue's request all the same. It was a strange way with him, as she had discovered once the rumour mill had gone to work and word had spread of how her bed was rarely empty most nights. His disposition towards her had not changed, though there was a strange sort of current to his voice now whenever they spoke privately, as if he was giving her a deeper respect than before, which she admittedly had been too afraid to question him over. The implications were too much, and while he had never once stepped a foot out of line in addressing her relationship with his lord, there was still no questioning the fact that he knew. Whether or not he approved... Well, that was also something she was too afraid to question him on. "Say whatever it is on your mind... You may as well now, considering everyone else seems to be doing the same."

"Very well... Then, I shall reiterate that I disagree with Felix's reasoning, and do not find your unwillingness to include your students in your private affairs to be hypocritical. It is your right, and your right alone, to deem what is or is not appropriate to share with us. To think otherwise would be selfish, and undermining of your emotions." Dedue folded his hands behind his back, carefully aware of every pair of eyes that were scorching him, but still relatively unconcerned for them. Their opinions, in the end, did not truly matter. They could and would speak for hours on them, could and would raise a blade to fight or die for their professor, but in the end, he was aware of who it was who had the right to make the final decision on such things, and he would not be foolish and act before an order was given. "With that said, however... I believe that this conversation has been diverted from its original purpose, and in progressing as we have, your emotions have been injured. For that, I apologize. Yet... I must ask you, as I believe all of us here wish to... What is it then, that you would have us do, as your students and comrades, with the knowledge that we _do_ have available to us at current?"

"In what respect do you mean? Felix is claiming he'd go to war over the damage to my family. That seems supported by at least half of you. The other half of you seem to want to know what it is that happened to my family, and where I place the blame, and what I intend to do about that blame." Raine pointed out shrewdly, but to Dedue's credit, he merely continued to watch her in silence rather than avert his eyes from her own. He didn't even shift uncomfortably, like so many of his peers did now that the tone in the room had grown so much sharper and deadlier, and she almost respected him more than she wanted to hit him for that. "My question to you is what will you do if I refuse to tell you anything? If I keep my secrets, my grudges, and give you no orders? Will you stand down and simply bite your tongues? Or will you act on your own?"

"We will be doing nothing that you do not be giving the approval of, Professor." Petra answered before Dedue could, and her adust eyes flashed almost with annoyance that such a question had been raised at all. She tilted her head, catlike and curious, but her hands had curled into fists at her side, and she stood tall, back straight and chin raised almost in defiance as she continued firmly, "We are your students... and we are also your soldiers. We will follow your orders. Always. If you say that you wish for us to do nothing... nothing is what we will do. We will not disobey. We have not come so far with you only to be showing such disrespect now. But, you cannot be lying to us, in return, yes? Do you not trust us to care for you, Professor? To be angry, hurt, or sad for you, as you were for us when we were of need? Or is it that you do not want us to be angry, hurt, or sad? We cannot understand, if you do not tell us."

"Petra's right, Professor. Why is it that you want to push us away so badly now?" Ashe moved fluidly to Petra's side, and he stood shoulder to shoulder with the future queen of Brigid without an ounce of shame or hesitancy in his features. He watched his professor closely, noting the discomfort on her face, in her body language, and it only made his brow furrow deeper in concern and worry. He was a sniper, after all, and little was permitted to be beneath his notice... and his training as a thief in his youth had taught him all he needed to know about reading patterns and routines. He shook his head slowly, hating himself for the words in his throat but forcing them out all the same as he corrected himself, "No... Not just now. It's always been like this. Whenever you're in need... You either hide it until it cannot be hidden anymore, or push us away from you. If I didn't know you better, I would say that you didn't trust us... but that's obviously not true. If you didn't trust us, you wouldn't fight with us. You don't put your back to anyone that you don't believe will have it when needed most. That's how you were raised. How both you and Sir Warin were raised. But off the battlefield... You won't let us in until it's almost too late. Like you _want_ something to happen to you that we could prevent. Like you're punishing yourself for something, and suffering under it by yourself is the only thing you can think to do."

"Oh... That's it, isn't it, Professor...? You _are_ punishing yourself, aren't you?" Mercedes' voice was soft, and she was the first to move and speak after the uncomfortable silence followed Ashe's proclamation. No one ever took his word lightly, and all knew his eyes were the sharpest in the class. If he had made such an observation, and especially one that she had not immediately tried to counter... It was more than likely truer than they wished to admit. Raine was looking away from all of them, jaw tightly clenched and hands curled into fists, but Mercedes didn't mind it as she took slow, careful steps about the table to where her professor was now standing. Her hand reached, settling slowly, gently on the older woman's shoulder, and she squeezed carefully as she murmured, "All this time, that's what it's been about. You still haven't forgiven yourself for everything that's happened over the past several years... You've been punishing yourself for all your failures, because if no one else will hold you accountable for them, you at least will. Am I right?"

Raine flinched away from the gentle touch, teeth grinding as the words hit home far too sharply for her to ever try to avoid. She heard Dimitri letting out a long, slow breath at her side, but he didn't speak up, either. His insight was as keen as Mercedes' was, but his mercy had forced him into silence. Mercedes was clearly not as giving, but it didn't matter. It was the truth, and Raine felt her eyes beginning to smart as those failures, the faces of her father, the villagers of Remire, her brother, her students, all of those who were now dead flashed in front of her face like lightning in the clouds. How many had she lost...? How many had she been unable to help? How many more would there be, before she would be put to task for everything she had done, and failed to do?

Suddenly she was being pulled, and Raine couldn't resist even as much as she wanted to as she felt Mercedes' arms winding themselves tightly, lovingly, about her trembling form. Despite her wounds, despite her obvious tiredness, there was a strange strength to her grip, and Mercedes held onto her almost as if she was trying to keep her from falling apart at the seams. Perhaps she knew more than Raine did, and she didn't resist, feeling her body slumping as Mercedes hugged her even tighter as she sighed painfully, "You want to be punished because you think it's all your doing... I understand. Believe me, I know... But it isn't your fault. None of this is your fault. Had you a choice in the matter, none of what happened would ever have come to bear... but you never had a choice. You were robbed of that, from the very start. And still you think that everything that went wrong was your doing. You only believe that because you're kind."

Annette twitched, feeling that familiar ache of guilt and realization blossoming through her chest at Mercedes' heartfelt words, and she understood just exactly how deep that truth was ringing out in her friend's explanation. After all, who else amongst them knew that kind of grief better than Mercedes' did? She had sought out judgement at her brother's hand, putting up her life against it because she thought it was only right of her to do, and she could see the parallels between herself and her professor more clearly than anyone. The thought of it made her shudder, and she was quick to join her friend, embracing both women with all she had as she spoke through a rapidly closing throat, "It's not fair... None of this is fair. Stop trying to carry all of this by yourself! We're here, too! All of us are here! We want to help! Let us help you, Professor! You're not in this alone! You'll never be alone! We won't let you!"

Dimitri stepped quietly aside, watching as the women of the group all rushed forward, clamouring to show their support in any way they could as the depth of their professor's suffering was brought kicking and screaming into the light. Raine all but disappeared between them all, buried in their arms and underneath their kind, gently consoling words, and he both ached with guilt for her overwhelming emotions and for his classmates' wishes to do something, anything, to give her comfort. The men of the class all stood quietly by, their eyes narrowed and faces drawn with similar guilt and emotion, and he could see their thoughts pasted clearly across their expressions as words across a page.

Sylvain was staring silently at her, discomfort and anger quietly simmering in his eyes, and Dimitri could almost hear the name of his dead elder brother in his thoughts as he watched Ingrid take her turn to embrace Raine tightly. Though he had not spoken much of their growing relationship, all had noticed that it had been shortly after Miklan's death that something between him and his professor had changed. She had pulled him out of the dark, had ripped away the mask of a joking clown, and Sylvain had made it clear that from that point on he would always give her his respect and his loyalty. His days in the war had proved it, as no one else had been her fiercest supporter, her most steadfast knight... and it was clear that he was wondering where he had failed so significantly to not see himself in her actions.

Ashe was watching them all, too, his brow drawn and his lips pursed into a scowl, but Dimitri could see behind the initial anger without much trouble. It had not surprised him in the least that it had been Ashe who had put the pieces together, as he had been there that day to hear Raine's declaration that she would indeed go to war with the Church itself if it meant protecting her students. She hadn't been speaking hypothetically, and both of them had known it... How else could her words have been half as comforting as they were, if she had been exaggerating just for their benefit? No, she had meant everything she had said and more. She couldn't lie to save her own skin. She wouldn't ever try just for their comfort.

Felix's glare could likely melt all of the snow in the north, but Dimitri did not begrudge his friend for his anger. It was righteously placed, even if he could almost hear the words that had to be beating a drum within his head. How furious had he been with himself, and with Mercedes, when he had realized just how deep her guilt over her brother truly ran? The word "martyr" had been on his lips, and he spoke it with such contempt that it could almost melt steel... but there was no denying the fact that even if he hated their actions, that their emotions still were real enough for them. For all his wrath, however, he was not subjecting either of the women to it, even if it had to be galling him to swallow it all. He did not wish to hurt those already in pain... and he would keep it bundled up close to his chest, at least for the moment, until he was permitted to use his blade to unleash it all.

Dedue however met his stare, and in those old, familiar eyes Dimitri felt both comfort and guilt staring back at him. He was thankful that Dedue had returned control to Raine with his words, with his disagreement of Felix's demands, and he would give him his appreciation when it was all over... but there was still that unspoken order laying between them. Dedue had not spoken up solely for Raine's sake. Dimitri knew his old friend, his trusted retainer, far too well for that. After all, who had been the one to watch over her, quietly and from a distance, ever since he had returned? Had spoken at length with her brother, had kept her secrets, and had kept a vigil over her when he had been too far gone to do so? Dedue knew his heart better than he did... and he had taken the task of protecting it, protecting _her_ , as seriously as any obligation he had ever done.

A quiet breath escaped him, and his head turned in the direction of the infirmary where both Flayn and Raphael still were holed up. He could imagine their responses, their fevered support and their gentle compassion, but a part of him was glad that they were not there to witness this. Flayn was sensitive, too sensitive, to see her professor breaking down like this, and she would never forgive herself for the part she played in it. Her age and immaturity didn't matter. She was kin to Rhea and to Seteth, and for their crimes she, too, would hold herself accountable. Why else had she come to them in the first place, professing her guilt as a traitor, and expecting condemnation for things she couldn't have ever possibly controlled?

And then there was Raphael, a young man much too wise for his years, but knowing loss, guilt, and grief far more intimately than his warm smile ever let on. He would understand his professor, even if he would fight her to the death for her words, and he would be first amongst all of them to lift her up and keep her standing if he ever was there to see her stumble. He had been there for all of them, his smile wide and comforting, and his hands strong and supportive, and more than ever Dimitri wondered at him and his choices. He had let it all go, when he had been given a chance to turn to a darker path... and instead he had embraced the light, and never once looked back. He was a better man than all of them, and Dimitri knew his respect for him would never cease if for that and that alone.

Underneath the soft, gentle words of her female students, Dimitri listened to Raine's quiet sniffles as she was huddled in tight against all of them. Each of them were so desperate and eager to give her comfort, trading her from embrace to embrace as if they all wanted to hold her close and ensure she was never let go ever again. For her credit, Raine was permitting it and not protesting at all, and Dimitri wondered with a pulse of exasperated fondness if she was doing it for her own sake, or for their own. It likely was a mixture, but as he watched Petra hold her shoulders, while Annette tenderly wiped away the tears as they came... He supposed it didn't matter. They loved her, and whatever way they wished to show it was permissible. Blood did not matter to them. They had shed enough of it on the battlefield together to make such trite things meaningless. They were a family. They were a pride. Nothing would tear them apart no matter how many mistakes were made.

"I'm... sorry... I can't... give you an answer right now..." Raine's voice was weak and strained, her throat tight from the tears that she was still fighting off despite how easily they leaked from her eyes. The supporting hands, the comforting embraces, the firm stares of those who withheld their touch but gave her strength all the same... It was too much for her, and she could feel that accursed sensation of tightness once again beginning to encircle her chest. It was just like in the dungeons, when the world felt as if it was closing in about her, and though she knew she could be nowhere safer than here amongst her students... Her body was yearning for flight even as she whispered raggedly, "I just don't... have one for any of you... I don't know what it is I want to do, or how to do it. I won't push you away, but... I need a little more time... before I can tell you anything..."

It was difficult, asserting himself against those he knew had every right, if not an even stronger right, to demand justice for the woman among them, but Dimitri swallowed down his hesitation as Raine's words cast a silence over the room. He was gentle, but firm as he reached into the group, untangling her from their gentle holds and bringing her free, and from the way she blindly reached for him, he knew she had wished he had done so sooner. He winced at the thought, curling an arm protectively about her back, and as she tucked herself into his side, hiding her face against his shoulder, he spoke quietly, slowly for the staring eyes about him, "Let that be enough for the moment... I know all of you are impatient, and angry... You've every right to be. But for today... let it rest. For her sake, if nothing else. None of us here can truly say we support her, that we will always be there for her, if we ignore her wishes now. When tempers have calmed, when she makes her decision... We can reconvene, and show our support as she wants us to. Today... We've pushed enough."

There was a quiet fuss, but ultimately the women pulled away after a few murmured comments and caresses that Raine allowed silently. There were too many longing glances, too many worried stares, but all the same everyone allowed themselves to pull away, even if it was begrudging. However, as the crowd moved to the door, Felix spoke up, his eyes still narrowed and face still drawn into a scowl, "We'll leave it for now... but remember something. The both of you. You don't get to choose what we care for, or how we react to things, as individuals or as a group. We are the Blue Lions, and we didn't come this far by being anything less than a pride. You can continue to risk your skin, but don't complain when we stop you for your own good. Are we clear?"

Dimitri gritted his teeth, readying himself to snap back a harsh command, but Raine's hand on his wrist quieted him before the words could escape his throat. She looked haggard, her eyes dark and quiet, but the touch was more than enough to still him. He had already made too many mistakes, and he had no right to make any more moves without her consent. This was her stage to command, and command it she did as she refused to move from where she stood, carefully being supported by the much taller man beside her, but she did lift her chin, meeting Felix's steadfast glare head-on when she answered him softly, tiredly, "We're clear, Felix. I understand."

That seemed to be satisfying enough for him, and Felix was the first to leave as the others followed in a slow, lazy trickle. Ashe was the last, hesitating at the doorway with a long backwards glance, but Petra's hand was firm as she pulled him out to follow her and he did not disobey her wishes. It felt like forever for all of them to file out, and the final click of the door closing behind them all sounded almost like a peal of thunder. There was a tense silence left behind for the two who had yet to move, and it was broken when Raine let out a long, exhausted sigh and reached for the table in the same movement.

Dimitri watched, swallowing hard as he took her in with a wary, cautious eye. She looked like she had aged a decade in only a handful of minutes, and she leaned back on he table as she tilted her head back and let out another long breath. Her hands were trembling slightly as they gripped onto the thick wood that was supporting her weight, but otherwise she was working hard to disguise any sort of physical reaction she must have been having to what had just happened. Her pallor was sickly, and all the strength seemed to have disappeared from her in an instant. It made him wince, and his hands twitched with longing to reach out, to caress and support, but he held back as he instead spoke slowly, hesitantly, "Are you... all right...?"

The moment the question left his lips he felt like an absolute fool, and he wished he could take them back as her eyes flickered open to turn down to look at him. The exhaustion seemed to permeate into her very irises, but rather than scorn, he was met with a half-hearted sort of smile. She tilted her head somewhat, then reached out, her fingers idly toying with the collar of his tunic. He flinched in surprise, clearly not expecting a kind touch, and she slid a finger carefully under the hem, tugging slightly in reproach. He looked up, unable to help it when he knew what she wanted, and when his eye met hers, she instead surprised him with a question of her own, "How long have you been keeping them at heel?"

"For the better part of two moons. Ashe was the first to approach me, but he was more easily persuaded to hold off. But when Felix became involved, it became much more difficult." Dimitri admitted with immediate honesty, and his gaze flickered momentarily to the door as he remembered those curt and tense discussions that had worn at both his temper and his patience until he had all but threatened to make his suggestion into an order if they didn't leave it be. He shook his head slowly, regretfully, and he watched as Raine watched him with sharp, calculating eyes before he continued, "I convinced them that it would do no good to just spring this on you out of the blue, that you wouldn't appreciate being ganged up on, but... Tempers have been running high as of late, and you know how Felix is. He can't contain himself for long as a general rule."

"Two moons? I'm almost impressed." Raine remarked with raised eyebrows, but her words seemed to only make Dimitri wince away from her all the further in guilt. She sighed lightly before letting go of the table, and she reached with both hands to grasp his shoulders and pull him back towards her. He didn't fight, just as she knew he wouldn't, and she carefully but purposefully pulled him in until she could wrap her arms as best about his waist as she could manage. He stood still and quiet, allowing for her embrace but hesitant to return it, and she nuzzled her face into his shoulder as she sighed, "It must have been difficult for you... I'm sorry that you were put at odds with your friends over me. That's not something I would have ever asked of you... but I do appreciate the effort nonetheless. I'm sorry for being so difficult."

"You aren't difficult... This entire situation has been one problem after another, and there has been no chance for anyone to rest between it all." Dimitri answered with a frown, and his arms acted on their own, reaching to fold her carefully against his chest for a loving squeeze. She came all too willingly, glad for the embrace and leaning in closer for more, and he nuzzled his cheek to her temple. His hands moved with slow and careful purpose, massaging her tight shoulders as he held her close and muttered into her hair, "But, for better or worse, they have all been keeping a very close eye on you... and even if you never spoke a negative word about Rhea to any of them, they know full well that things are tense between the two of you. They expected this when she returned... What they did not expect was your continuing silence. Felix's temper couldn't hold out, no matter how much I urged him for patience... And he's right, even if it galls me. I should be angrier. I _should_ be protecting you. But... I'm not."

"You're following my lead. That _is_ protecting me." Raine corrected him with a poke to the chest, and she pulled away to fix him with a stern look. He quickly averted his gaze, unable to bear the heat of her stare, but she didn't mind it. The guilt permeating from him was almost tangible, and it reached through her tiredness to make her want to hold him all the tighter. He had worked to put this off for as long as he possibly could, and though she was not happy with the current situation... She understood exactly what was happening and why. And the two moons he had saved her from the pressure and unease was a blessing unasked for. "You've always valued my freedom to make a choice more than anyone else ever has. Don't think that's ever escaped my notice. You aren't acting not because you don't want to, but because you think I have the right to act before you do. You won't tread on that out of respect for me. Felix is wrong to say you aren't doing your part as my lover. He simply doesn't understand what I need from you, and frankly, I don't intend to tell him because that's none of his damned business."

Dimitri fought a smile at her heated mutter, wondering once again at just how kind she could be when he least deserved it. She should have been furious with him... and yet there she was, curled up snugly in his arms and giving him reassurance, rather than allowing any for herself. What she said was true, that he valued her freedom highly, perhaps even moreso than she herself did, but at the same time, it didn't give him peace to hear her acknowledge it. He pulled back slightly, his one good eye averting from her face despite his ache to want to study her expression, and his voice was quiet, hesitant, when he asked, "Are... Are you upset with me?"

"Dimitri..." Raine's sigh was equally exasperated as it was affectionate, and she reached carefully to cup his face in her hands and turn it back towards her. He only fought her a little, clearly still hesitant and unsure, but at her insistence, he gave in just as she expected him to. He reminded her strangely of a lost puppy all of a sudden, nervous and worried, and her chest tightened with sympathy and pain for him. Despite all he'd seen, all he had suffered and lived through... Making her upset seemed to be the only thing he was truly frightened of. Her fingers brushed lovingly against his cheeks, and she spoke softly, tenderly when he finally allowed himself to look back at her, "I'm not upset with _you_. You've done more than I could have asked, keeping everyone from jumping on me for as long as you did. I won't lie and say I don't deserve their ire, because I do, but I'm still grateful you kept them at bay until now. I wouldn't have been able to handle it two moons ago. Not with everything that was happening."

"Yet now is acceptable? On the cusp of what should be the last struggle?" Dimitri pointed out, unable to help himself from digging the hole he was already in deeper, despite her willingness to toss him a lifeline. As much as he appreciated her forgiveness, her care, he knew full well he didn't deserve it. Had he done his duty properly, his classmates would have been held off until Raine chose to confront them herself, but they both knew that would have never come to pass. The Blue Lions were obstinate as a group. As individuals, they were even moreso. They had been lucky to have eked out two moons... and it had taken every last iota of patience and political know-how to stretch that out, anyway.

"No time is going to be acceptable. I'm terrified of what's going to happen when my brother and I confront Rhea." Raine admitted bluntly, and a little part of her felt a thrill of finally saying so aloud, even though the rest of her winced away from the truth. Fear was useless, and liable to make her make a mistake. She couldn't be a victim to fear. Not if she wished for the truth. She needed to discard it and face everything head-on, regardless of what would be told to her, but such strength simply wasn't available to her after so much fighting, and her smile was tired as she leaned back on the table again, "I'm terrified of finding out the whole truth. Of how far her reach extends into the lives of myself and my family. It's one thing to speculate, even with the facts we have at hand, but it will be another entirely once she confirms or denies things with her own mouth. Warin is steeling himself for the worst. So am I. Which is amusing, in its own way... because I honestly don't believe what she can tell me will be any worse than what I tell myself. I can't judge how I will react... There's just so much anger and resentment that's built up over so long... Should I turn it on her, in the end? Should I let it go, and move on, regardless of what it is she says? I can't begin to guess what will be the right thing to do... and that scares me, too."

Dimitri ground his teeth, hating that helpless note in her voice, and the way she admitted to her fear and her inability to know how to proceed. He knew she always had doubts. She had begun this journey of hers full of doubt and uncertainty, but even as she grew into her role, there had been no comfort or gaining of steadiness. Rather, she only grew more concerned about where she placed her feet, and second-guessed every decision she made, no matter how good the outcomes of her previous ones proved to be. Even if everyone she had ever led joined together and praised her leadership, praised her skills in swordsmanship and tactics, she would never truly believe in herself... and it broke his heart to see how deeply she had been damaged. He reached for her face, his thumb brushing carefully over her lips before he muttered roughly, "You won't be alone... Regardless of what is said, regardless of how you feel now, when the time comes... You will not be alone to face it. It's small comfort, I know, but I will be there for you, in whatever capacity you need of me. Whether it to be your shield, or your sword. Even your shadow, should you choose to do nothing. It does not matter. I will not allow you to face this, or anything else, by yourself."

"And that's the thing I take the most comfort in... Knowing you'll be there for me, at the end of it all. I don't think I could do it without you. Warin has too much rage in him. I'd be so easily swayed by it if it was just the two of us. Knowing you'll be there keeps me grounded." Raine murmured, and she turned her face to nuzzle into his palm, holding his hand closer with her own as he stepped forward protectively and unthinkingly. He kept her closely pinned between himself and the table, surrounding her with his strength and touch, and the frantic racing in her head slowed just enough to be bearable with his presence. It surprised her in a numb sort of way, the sheer amount of influence he had over her emotions and her body's reactions, but she accepted it eagerly. She needed that unmatched strength to cling to, in the midst of this maelstrom. She would have long ago been swept away without him there to keep her safe and steady. And she loved him all the more desperately for it.

She bit her lip as he caressed her cheek, feeling the arc of heat and electricity surging through her skin as his thumb brushed against the corner of her mouth again in an absent gesture. She still felt frighteningly vulnerable, still felt tired and weak, but his warmth was intoxicating, and a reminder that she was allowed to show him this side of her whenever she wanted to, because he would always offer her comfort if she asked. She leaned further into his touch, her free hand dropping to curl about the neckline of his tunic before she asked in a whisper, "Can we go to your quarters...? I want you to hold me for a little while... I want to forget about everything that's been happening. That's going to happen. Do you mind?"

Dimitri felt himself stirring almost immediately at the plaintive request, and he almost hated himself for just how eagerly his body was willing to leap for her. Those soft, seafoam-green eyes of hers were bewitching when they stared up at him, and the way she bit her lip, as if she was anticipating both his refusal and acceptance all at once... That beast growled lowly in the back of his head, asking him why he was waiting, why there was a need to even leave the war room when the doors were closed and there was a perfectly good table to lean her over, and his trousers tightened to the point of pain as the hot images flickered rapidly through his mind's eye. He shook it away roughly, stealing back his reason and control, but his voice was ragged even as his thumb brushed again over her lips, "I don't mind at all, but... I can't promise that I'll be gentle..."

"That's fine... I don't think I want you to be gentle." Raine answered softly, and she stood up straight to press herself firmly into his chest, and her arms reached to lace themselves as best they could about his broad shoulders. He grunted quietly at the sensation of her curves flattening against the harder planes of his body, and the hunger that etched its way into his face only made her throb with desire. She was glad to see it, to know he felt that same insane need as she did, and she stood on tiptoe, mouth brushing just like a whisper against his ear, "I know you're afraid of hurting me, but I'm fully healed from my wounds now... I can take a little roughness from you. In fact, to be honest... I like it when you're rough with me. Knowing you can't control yourself because of me... It's very arousing."

"If you keep this up, you won't make it to my quarters... Do you know how difficult it is to not bend you over this table, and take you like the animal I am right now...?" Dimitri almost growled as his trousers once again brought a shooting pain up his spine, and that soft feeling of her body pressing so intimately into his did not help the problem an ounce. He didn't know how she did it, how she dismissed his concerns so easily and then brought them back around to them being things she enjoyed, but he couldn't lie in the face of her blunt honesty. It aroused him, too, to hear her say that she enjoyed knowing she could make him lose his head for her. If she only knew how much, perhaps, then she would speak with less candour. "Come with me, you minx... I'll give you what you want... and more, besides. Only remember that I tried to warn you, when you think of begging for mercy."

"I will." Raine promised with a growing smile, and she offered him one longing squeeze before releasing him. She wouldn't push his boundaries further, especially when she knew how honest he was being, no matter how much she was secretly yearning for it. If they began now, there was no telling when they would stop, and the risk of being caught was enough to cut through the desire and bring back better sense. It wasn't permitted, no matter how many people knew... She wouldn't dare to tarnish his reputation any further than she already had. However... Her hand slid along his arm, caressing each tense muscle through his tunic before finding his wrist, and her fingers interlaced with his before she murmured in encouragement, "Let's go. I'll follow you anywhere."

Dimitri fought a smile despite himself, wondering at her warmth, at her sweetness, despite everything. Her eyes were still slightly rimmed with pink, and her grip on his hand was weaker than normal, but still she held onto him like he was her lifeline. She asked for so little, and always with full expectation that she would be refused. He would never understand her, but he supposed it didn't matter. He ducked his head, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head as his hand enclosed her own, and he pulled gently as he went. She followed after him like a shadow, never once letting go, and he sighed into her hair as she tucked herself so naturally against his side, "And I you, my beloved... Let's escape this madness for a little while, just you and I."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Again, not a chapter that really went the way I intended it to go, and yet... I'm not really upset with it. There was a lot to unpack (though not much was actually unpacked) but there also was a lot to be addressed that never got addressed in Azure Moon. It's fun to touch upon the topics that weren't ever brought up because of the differences in the routes, but it's equally fun to go diving into characters and their motivations and feelings... Especially for Raine, in my case. Byleth being such a blank slate in many ways is good for the narrative, but of course, I never was writing a "Byleth". I always was writing a character with awareness and complicated feelings that only kept growing more complicated, and having that addressed was always going to be as important as the actual plot points of the game.
> 
> The fact that the "students" never got closure on the Crest system, or the Relics, even in Verdant Wind was always something that bothered me. I always wondered how some characters would feel with the information they're given, and how they would react when that information became "public knowledge". Of course, with characters who never got a chance to find out this knowledge, a lot of what I'm writing is just winging it. I imagine much anger, probably a good deal of revulsion, but also a lot of pragmatism. For the characters of the Blue Lions, war has always been a way of life. Out of all of the classes, they are the ones most knowledgeable, and "at home" in battle, because the academy was not their first taste of bloodshed. There's very little reaction to their first fight, and many see it as a matter of course if it means protecting their territory and family... Which, in turn, likely means that continuing to use the system to do so probably is not overly problematic, even if it would be jarring and distasteful in the long run.
> 
> Of course, that, paired with the knowledge that Raine's secrets likely take precedence over the secrets of their continent when it comes to personal feelings... ended up with this chapter focussing much more on Raine than it did the "truth" of the world. Which, also to me, felt very natural. The Blue Lions always felt more like a pride than a class to me, with so many already built-in relationships established, and over the course of her teaching, Raine worked very hard to enmesh that idea of teamwork and friendship deep into her students. Now, when push comes to shove, and it's Raine's turn to be suffering and at a loss, the pride circles to protect and defend, even if it may not be what she wants.
> 
> Anyway, there's one more chapter to go before the conflict with Nemesis, and then likely one or two more before the clash between Rhea and the siblings. From there, I'm not entirely sure how long it will take to wrap up the story. There are a few more loose ends I need to figure out how to wrangle, but so far, I've been enjoying myself, so I'll take my time to work it all out in a nice and satisfactory way. I'm grateful as always for your patience with me, and I thank you for reading this far. Drop me a review should you feel the need, and have a good one! Stay safe and healthy!
> 
> Mood: Playful.
> 
> Listening To: "Nothing Else Matters" - Metallica
> 
> ~ Sky


End file.
